The Shearing Cross, Expounded
by scifigrrl
Summary: This is the MA-rated version. There are minor differences (mostly swearing) through chapter 10. From 11 on, mature content is included. Please avoid this story if sexual content is an issue, primarily beginning in chapter 17 (missing completely from the sanitized version). Warning: there is VERY explicit content in 20 (though this will always be respectful of women).
1. Above Deck

**Chapter One: Above Deck**

The fishing trawler continued on its path, farther into a short safety for the two passengers on board, Aaron Cross and Marta Shearing. Aaron had just rolled up the map he had been studying in response to Marta's comment that she wished they were lost. Pleasantly surprised, he searched Marta's face for her full meaning, his brow arched above teasing blue eyes. She smiled back at him briefly then shyly glanced down at her hands and nervously folded them together, extending them on the table they shared. Unable to resist, Marta hazarded another look back at Aaron to gauge his reaction.

Aaron was leaning back in his chair smiling directly back at her with a hint of smugness. Martha held his gaze boldly until his confident intensity stared her into a blush and she refocused on her hands clasped before her. She sensed him leaning forward before she saw his one big right hand overtake both of hers together. Marta felt a happy relief and looked back at Aaron with unconcealed affection and desire. His own smile had softened and they enjoyed an extended moment in silent admission of a new intimacy shared between them.

_Finally_, Aaron thought. "Four years and you finally see when you look at me", he said, still smiling but serious.

Marta frowned, not understanding what he meant. "You mean before, at Sterison-Morlanta?" she asked. "If you're talking about me noticing you then, I saw you. But you were the patient and I was the doctor. I was being appropriately professional."

Aaron shook his head. "When you saw me, it was as a medical mad scientist analyzing her lab monkey. Number five, right?" he laughed. "But you wouldn't _see_ me, no matter how hard I tried. You looked through me, straight to the cells in my body and the synapses in my brain." He pushed his index finger against his forehead with emphasis. Then, because her smile had dimmed, he added more gently, "Now we see each other."

Marta ignored his last comment, her irritation growing. "It wasn't allowed; you with your 'attractive appearance' comments. You were cocky, rebellious and increasingly combative with the entire process. I had a job to do which you continually tried to undermine."

"For damn good reason, if I was!" Aaron sat up rigidly, taking his hand with him, his smile gone. Her hands abandoned, Martha pulled them back and folded her arms across her chest. It was an unconscious action guarding herself from the true root of his objection-a knowledge that would pain her conscience. They sat, quiet in their own thoughts with only the sound of waves gently buffeting the boat.

Looking off distantly into the ocean but seeing the past, Marta eventually spoke reflectively, "I could tell almost right away you were different. I remember thinking you were so self-assured, so confident and self-aware."

"Don't you mean cocky, combative and rebellious?" Aaron interjected.

"Dangerous," Marta clarified with a wry grin. "You needed to be handled with caution. "

"By you?" Aaron asked, his eyebrow arched and expression hard.

Marta had expected a flirtatious response. "By you" was a statement that should have worked in that context, but she was thrown off by his accusatory tone.

Slightly confused, Marta replied, "Not exactly me. Though as a member of the team..." her voice trailed off. She began again, shaking her head and stammering, "The project. You were dangerous to the project. You had to be handled with caution because you had begun showing resistance. You were a valuable asset to our research. For the integrity of the experiment and the success of the program, you had to be controlled."

At that, Aaron made an indignant noise and pushed himself away from the table without rising from the chair. Despite knowing it was unfair, he couldn't stop himself from bitterly asking once again, "By you?"

Marta sat back abruptly in her seat, her lips partly opened in stunned surprise, on his line of questioning and the abrupt turn their conversation had taken. Breathing back deeply a bit of hurt, she replied, "I thought we were past this, Aaron."

Remorseful, Aaron exhaled heavily as he calmed. He nodded in confirmation as he assured her, "We are". His hand rose to his forehead and massaged his temples as if nursing a headache. Based on his own experience, Aaron was sure Marta needed to confront her guilt and come to grips with it, as much as was possible, at least. He intended to help her come to a full realization of her role at Sterison-Morlanta and Outcome, not to punish her, but for closure. Perhaps, though, he was more resentful than he originally thought. Still, Marta had to take responsibility to make a clean break from her former life to begin a new, very different one.

"Of course we are," he clarified, looking back at her pointedly. "But, like your house, you need to set the blaze; burn the past."

"Oh, I've burnt my past", she retorted. "My life is in ashes. You've made it clear I can't go back. And you're right; I know it. I'll be killed if I return to the work I've spent a lifetime preparing for, all my training, all my skills wasted. I sacrificed so much for that job, for science."

"Yeah, me too", Aaron muttered bitterly.

Thinking he was belittling her loss, Marta said through a clenched jaw, "It was my entire existence, my top priority." She thought of Peter and the choice she had made between her career and a life as his wife. "My job was the love of my life. My work is who I am. So now I am no one and I, quite literally, have nothing."

Marta allowed herself to mourn the loss of the life she had been forced to leave behind for a few minutes of grief. Aaron just sat quietly watching her, waiting for the horror of her words to sink in to her consciousness. When she finally looked up at him there was no understanding dawning, just self-centered sorrow, by his estimation.

Marta was dumbfounded by his look of tempered disgust. "What?", she demanded.

Aaron repeated her words, " 'My work is who I am. My job was the love of my life.' " He faced her squarely as he asked, "_That _job was you? _That _work, you loved?"

Marta blinked back at him with incomprehension. Then, slowly, as the full meaning of her comments was finally reasoned out in disoriented thinking, she was stricken. The implication Aaron had leveled at her felt like a denunciation of herself personally, and it stung. Her identity was tied up with her work, and she had loved it. She had felt proud of her accomplishments, of her ground-breaking work. Marta felt the boat's deck lurch.

"I feel seasick", she said shakily, as a wave of dizzying nausea hit. Aaron reached to steady her. He kept her upright as she reeled, rocked not by the boat, but a rush of crushing emotions. Not without pity, he watched her suffering a similar reaction he had already experienced.

"I felt the same way once, back in Iraq", Aaron said with true empathy. After giving her a minute to breathe, he continued, "Seasick on desert ground." His blue eyes squinted, as if peering into a scene under a blinding desert sun.

"For a split second I thought I had gotten caught in quicksand." He paused to shake the stubborn memory from his mind; the haunting feel of being sucked down to hell alive. "I wish I could tell you the guilt eventually fades away, but it doesn't. We'll live with it, but let it mold us for the better." Aaron hoped she would recognize the plurality in his last statement and what he meant by saying it.

The churning in Marta's stomach was replaced with an anger that seemed to uncoil and intensify unreasonably. She lashed out in retaliation of what she thought was Aaron's scathing, condescending reprimand of her. "_My_ guilt?", her offended voice shook as she pulled away from him. "_I_ didn't kill anyone."

When Marta saw the unmerciful pronouncement register in Aaron's countenance, she continued viciously, "You volunteered for Outcome. Although, maybe you couldn't read the contract telling you that they were going to make you a sanctioned hit man for the government. Or perhaps, only after enough blue pills could you understand that murder is bad?"

Aaron subconsciously lean forward to an attack stance on the balls of his feet, fists clenched and arms flexing in battle readiness. His neck muscles bulged in anger. Rather than taking heed, Marta was reminded of a cruel truth she had to fling at him.

The direct condemnation by Aaron of her part in Outcome was even more painful than the guilt Marta would not yet face fully, though it was poised to possess her. She turned on him-he who had awakened and empowered it.

"My guilt," she restated, but deflected, fighting the words. "What about your guilt, Aaron? Have you really let it mold you for the better? Defending yourself with lethal force against other agents I can understand, but I seem to remember at least one innocent guard you killed in cold blood, just two days ago, viciously snapping his neck. How many other innocents have died at your hand?" She watched him, expecting to feel triumphant, or at least mollified.

Aaron's face was suddenly drained of anger until it reflected only a painful anguish and an unsettling look of self-inflicted damnation. He made no attempt to conceal his hurt. All of Marta's previous feelings fell, and she would have willingly sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor with them.

"Oh, shit", she said, shaken by the ruthlessness of her rant. Too late, her fingers had covered her mouth then, without bidding, they reached for Aaron as if to thwart his inevitable retreat. Marta choked out his name "Aaron..." to stop him, as he left for the solitude of the crew's empty quarters below deck. Alone, Marta sunk back into the seat at the table, heavy with remorse. She hung her aching head in her hands, and succumbed completely to the guilt that flooded her.


	2. Superstructure

**Chapter Two: Superstructure**

Marta wasn't sure how much time had passed since Aaron left. It couldn't have been much more than ten minutes, but she could not bear her guilt a minute more. Her forehead lay hard on the table that she had been sharing with Aaron. She opened her eyes, lifted her head, and saw the maps he had weighted down with various nautical pieces. The last chart that he had rolled up had fallen off the table and was pinned against the inside hull of the ship by the ocean breeze, threatening to disappear over the edge of the railing.

The overwhelming guilt that had overtaken her squeezed Marta's lungs as she thought of Aaron and recalled the affectionate, knowing look they had so intimately shared between them. What happened? She remembered everything, but didn't want to.

Marta swallowed to choke down the emotion burning her throat and took a haggard breath. She leaned back to prop her elbows on the table and pushed her hair from her face but cradled her head in her hands while she recovered. She wondered if all the terror and trauma of the last few days had contributed to her outburst. Either way, she admitted to herself, she deserved her wretchedness.

"Oh, god", she groaned, grimly preparing to face Aaron. Marta couldn't begin to imagine how to apologize. It was made even worse by the fact that the most horrific thing she had said to Aaron was an awful truth. She _had_ been disturbed by him killing the guard. But how could she have ever mentioned it to him, basically denouncing him as a murderer? His actions had saved their lives. And she helped to develop the chemicals that would program his mind to follow killer instincts-to succeed at all cost.

The former Dr. Shearing took another deep breath, pulled herself up, and turned in the direction of the superstructure. Hesitating, she first retrieved the map from the deck and took it back to the table where she spread it out on top of the other charts and replaced the heavy objects to hold them all down. Marta looked it over and couldn't help but think maybe Aaron would have found them a hideout somewhere on this map where they could have been lost to all but each other. Even if it had only been for a day or two, she wished desperately they had. It would never happen now.

She felt the constricting pain in her chest again and she could feel tears forming in her eyes. Marta looked up into the sun, trying to burn them dry. Still having no idea what to say, she willed her feet forward to approach Aaron in the rusting gut of the ship. Even if he would never look at her again the way he had just minutes earlier over the table, she still owed him an apology.

The heavy metal hatch to the fishing trawler's small superstructure had been secured in an open position. A flimsy screen door was attached to the bulkhead. Marta resolutely stepped through, her head ducking for clearance. She could hear the captain and his small crew in the wheelhouse, chattering in Filipino. Aaron would understand most of what they were saying. She certainly didn't.

Marta knew how much she needed him to manage even a most basic survival. In their circumstances, Aaron's set of skills were critical and she was not too proud to acknowledge how hopeless she would be without him. But that wasn't her motive in seeking him out now. Her eyes adjusted to the lower light and she hoped he wasn't in the engine compartment. It would be too loud to hear her regret properly. If he was there, she figured all she could do was fling herself at his feet and beg his forgiveness. Actually, she considered, that might be easier than having to address him with simple words that could not fully convey her remorse.

Marta climbed down into the dank substructure of the ship, with access to the dingy engine room and a very cramped crews quarters. There was no door to the bunk room. No one stayed there except when caught out at sea in bad weather. The owner rarely took the fishing trawler farther than the distance of a days work, so the tiny beds were primarily used for storage. Aaron and Marta had slept on deck under the tarpaulin cover while the captain and his son had stayed in the bridge.

Tension mingled with the musty, oily air of the boat's bowels. Marta sensed Aaron's presence in the crews quarters so she looked with foreboding to the opening port-side at the end of the short passageway. Aware of not much more than her own pounding heart, Marta stepped forward and paused at the entrance of the room.

Aaron was standing a few steps away, his arms bracing himself against the cot side of a bunk's ledge. His head hung, eyes closed, the muscles in his bare back taut. The bandage she had wrapped around his arm was coming undone. Doctor training impelled Marta to draw closer and trembling hands tightened the cloth, noting a new stain of fresh blood. She tended to him warily, like she would a wild wounded animal, but Aaron stood without moving; unresponsive to her approach.

Marta moved behind him, uttering a weak "Aaron..." that sounded awkward to her ears.

Aaron was bowed slightly forward, drawing long breaths that expanded his rib cage so close before her. Marta placed a tentative hand on his back, dreading his recoil. Relieved when he did not, she rested her forehead on the arch of his spine. Marta filled her lungs filled with his scent, steadying herself against him.

"I'm so sorry", she began more audibly. "I never should have said...," she stammered. "I didn't mean that...". Marta sighed in frustration at being unable to formulate an appropriate apology. Resigned to the fact she would never be able to properly relay her penitence, she gave up trying to find the right words and now wished only to console him.

She brought her other hand up to risk a nervous caress and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Aaron's back had stilled under her touch as he involuntarily held his breath at feeling the gentle stroke down his flesh. Grateful for any response, Marta pulled back her forehead from against the curved line of his vertebrae and replaced it with brushing lips that lingered, unsure, before finally forming a hesitant kiss. After a long moment, Aaron's head lifted and he sighed deeply, sounding defeated.

Marta raised her head to speak and break the loud silence between them. At her movement, Aaron's head rose slightly, to absently stare straight ahead while she spoke, listening.

"Please forgive me," she pleaded, pressing her left temple between his shoulder blades. "You saved my life. I know we would not be alive without your actions. I have no right to condemn you for following a protocol I programmed into your instincts. If you killed, it was by my design; by the accomplishments of my sick work. And you're right; I was so proud."

Her voice wavered. "So brilliant, so driven, making men machines and refusing to learn for what purpose." Her mouth dry, Marta's tongue swept over her lips to continue. They tasted of Aaron.

"You were right; I wouldn't see you. I didn't want to know anything beyond my safe little world." She admitted, "I didn't want to hear you."

Marta slid her arms around him, half expecting him to extricate himself from her embrace, yet unable to stop herself. If she had kept him at a safe distance then, she wanted him in dangerous proximity now. Aaron Cross was deadly, but she had been instrumental in making sure he was. It was her passion to perfect the process, even while he rebelled against it. With Aaron a witness against her, there was no denying it: "I am the monster here, not you."

Marta felt more peaceful, just accepting this aloud and facing the truth of what she does, of who she is. _No_, she thought, correcting herself, _what I did, who I was_. _Oh_. Burn the past, just as Aaron had said. Lost momentarily in her personal revelations, Marta now realized Aaron was standing upright, his hand over hers, entwining their fingers. They had been in a very similar position before, on the motorcycle. There was a silent, mutual recognition shared between them in the affectionate gesture. They stood together, neither willing to disengage, for an extended space of time.


	3. Substructure

**Chapter Three: Substructure**

Shadows of Kenneth had always been cast over the new existence of the man now Aaron Cross. These usually manifested themselves as disconnected memories or a sense of emotion without the feeling. Marta's embrace and comforting kiss had brightened the darkness still clutching at Aaron from Kenneth's old miseries.

Abandoned by his alcoholic mother at an early age, he had lived with a grandfather who had suffered dementia years before the state finally deemed him unfit to raise an already challenged child. He was then lost in the chaotic crowd of disturbed youth at the state home.

Kenneth had suffered neglect, isolation and a frightening emptiness. His entire sad life was plagued with a desperate longing for care and some amount of genuine concern. Kenneth had survived by dreaming of family, of love. He had believed someday he would have both, and that faith had given him hope.

The only fond memory of young Kenneth Kitsom was watching old patriotic war movies his oblivious grandfather had played without end. The noble cause of the armed forces and the camaraderie of its soldiers was a siren call that promised to fulfill his need of belonging. Private Kitsom did not last long on the battlefield, but had found enough of a home in the army to fight being discharged. He was the perfect candidate for Outcome. He accepted their offer to join, without question, feeling only joyful eagerness.

Aaron refused to think of Kenneth's life as his own past. He had been reborn a completely different person; he was Aaron Cross. Yet the yearning of young Kenneth Kitsom to belong and find a true home still lingered. Marta's words and her body's warmth were a balm for wounds inflicted on an earlier self. Aaron felt that relief, though the injuries had long since scarred over.

Marta's declaration that she was the monster, not him, had soothed Aaron more deeply than he thought possible. But if he had lead her to face culpability, so as to overcome it, he must as well.

"No", he said. "I'll own it; I am a killer."

Marta started saying "No", and began the same shushing she had consoled him with when he was viraling out and very ill. Aaron recalled his feverish head drooping onto her shoulder and into her care, her fingers running through his hair in comfort. He brought the delicate hand he held up and kissed it.

Aaron turned to face her and said again, flatly, "I'm a killer." Marta's eyes took in his confession with concern.

"Every day since Iraq I wake up promising myself I will never kill again. It's a promise I can't keep. Worse, it's a promise I know I _won't_ keep. I wish I could," he sighed, returning her gaze with a weary, resigned look.

Aaron continued, gravely telling her, "I see the face of every person dead by my actions even before I make it out of bed. That guard I killed? He was married; wearing a ring. How many innocents? More than I care to admit, even to myself."

He paused, looking upwards as if begging forgiveness, his face penitent. "Thanks to the enhancements, I know them well. I see too much of their lives clearly."

Aaron paused then added, "And exactly how I took it from them. I remember it all; and torture myself with it later. I replay the scenes in my mind over and over, looking for ways to avoid killing. I imagine disarming or disabling them without causing death. Then I train both body and mind to use those methods the next time, instead. It helps, but it doesn't cure, because there's always a next time."

He shrugged with heavy shoulders. "Six months ago, any police officers, guards, and even bystanders that were hampering the success of my mission would've been neutralized along with any target or operative. I know it doesn't make up for killing anyone in the first place, but I honestly don't know what more I can do. I have to believe that I'm slowly, but surely, taking myself back." Aaron paused, thinking, then said, "Or more accurately, taking back control of myself."

Marta took his face in her hands, to focus him on her, not his suffering. "You are." She brought his head down to hers so that their foreheads were touching.

"It's really remarkable; you're altering your programming," she observed. "You've already accomplished so much more than should be possible. It must take an incredible amount of strength to override the killer instinct we basically downloaded into you, altering your behavior." Her hands slipped to his chest and her expression darkened as she said introspectively, "Scientists ignoring ethics; doctors doing harm."

A chastened Marta looked up into Aaron's big, penetrating blue eyes and said, a bit formally, "I deeply regret my part in the Outcome program; for what I've done to you."

"But you've helped me, too," Aaron interjected. "You saved me both mentally and physically." He remembered full well that it was Marta who took out the advanced agent, bent on their destruction, and ultimately saved them both. _A warrior indeed_, he thought to himself with a wry smile. Outcome training would have deemed Marta a liability to be disposed of immediately after her usefulness was over. Rejecting that course had been his salvation in more ways than one.

"But while I was shoving aside doubts to keep the work going, you faced yours and had the courage to rebel. I fought against my conscience, you fought _for_ yours. In that exam room, you demanded I look. But you're right; I didn't want to see." Marta hung her head in shame.

This time it was Aaron who took her face in his hands to focus her on him. "But you see me know", he said, his intense confidence restored. He lowered his head, resolutely bending towards her.

Marta's green eyes were shining, bright and new. "We see each other," she returned, repeating Aaron's words back to him, before her lips met his. _Finally._


	4. Overboard

**Chapter 4: Overboard**

Aaron had to admit there was a distinct benefit to being hunted with little possibility of survival. He recalled the Buddhist proverb of the tigers and the strawberry. Here he and Marta were, hanging by the last fiber of a failing vine above a chasm of inevitable destruction. Relentless tigers paced impatiently above, anxious to pounce and devour them at any opportunity. Escape was impossible, death loomed. Yet here they were relishing the unexpected gift of a wild strawberry, made infinitely more sweet by their precarious position. Moved by the sobering reflection, Aaron's mind took control of his consciousness, ending the precious minutes of passionate oblivion.

Marta sensed the change and broke their meld reluctantly, gently sighing. Remorseful, Aaron knelt and rested his forehead against hers, keeping her close while his thoughts launched forward on multiple courses, calculating. They stood together in the dank quarter, bodies still pressed close but the previous hunger shared was slowly subsiding. It wasn't long before Marta, too, was thinking of their dire situation with a growing desperation to solve it. Her analytical mind probed their recent past for answers while Aaron's mind searched out possible futures.

Aaron pulled back and groaned, "Sorry. I need to check out those maps on deck. We need a plan."

Marta straightened, squaring her shoulders. She looked up at him with a nod, and released him from their embrace to step back slightly. "I was hoping we would be lost for a lot longer," she said, a sorrowful smile on bruised lips.

Aaron felt a twinge of anger at having to leave her now. "We'll beat this," he said gripping her arms, his piercing eyes burning. Marta again nodded, staring back at him with obvious trust and tenderness. Amid all the chaos of the last few days, she had wisely followed his directions without question. At the time, it was essential to her survival. She had not hesitated at all, and instinctively relied on him with her life. Aaron felt the weight of responsibility, not as a burden, but an honor. The soldier in him steeled with determination, all he needed was a mission. He pulled her close and kissed her quick, but strong, and with feeling, before walking with purpose out of the room to the steel ladder.

Aaron stopped at two steps up, when Marta stepped through the bulkhead. Bright sunlight filtered down the superstructure, illuminating him as he peered back at her. Marta stood breathless seeing her mighty guardian perched mid-climb, his blue eyes almost transparent in the light. She suddenly felt inadequate and unworthy of his protection. Under his intent gaze, she began to worry he was drawing a similar conclusion.

Marta was barely distinguishable to Aaron among the shadows of the lower hull. The restored sunlight streaming into his eyes would have blinded normal sight, making it impossible to see her at all. Even with his enhanced sight, all he could make out was her face, arms and legs because of the black shirt she wore. His shirt. Aaron felt an impulse to drop down and take her back deeper into the shadows with him. He wanted to stay with her in the safety of darkness and ignore the fact that there really was no safety for them anywhere.

Marta walked forward blinking, her green eyes adjusting to the light, until they found his. She placed her hand over his which he immediately took up in his grasp. He could see she struggled to speak so he squeezed her hand to reassure her, thinking she doubted they could survive.

"We _will_ beat this," he reiterated. Marta closed her eyes and shook her head.

"You could beat them," she said. "Or at least escape and live out your life in freedom-if you're free of me."

"No," Aaron shook his head dismissing the suggestion immediately. "Absolutely not. We're in this together now. I wouldn't have made it this far without you."

He shrugged his shoulders, a gesture to underline a plain and simple fact. "And I won't go further without you, either."

Marta's brows furrowed. "But..."

"No," he cut her off. "You should've left me in the hotel room, but you didn't. You refused to leave me when I was vulnerable and I refuse to leave you vulnerable."

"That's exactly it," she countered. "I'll _always_ be vulnerable. I know I'm a great liability for you. You don't need medication-you're locked in. I would endanger you just by being there in your way or, at best, in tow, slowing you down."

She turned away from his gaze. "When it comes to you, my conscience weighs heavy enough already."

Aaron swung to the side of the ladder to face her directly, without the metal rungs between them, but she continued, her eyes downcast. "You've already rescued me and gotten me out of immediate danger. If you felt a sense of duty to see me to safety, you've accomplished that."

Marta hesitated, unable to think of another way to express herself without using a line she was reluctant to use. Giving up, she whispered, "You've done enough for me."

Their intimacy was still so new; Marta couldn't keep from blushing at the reference to their exchange in the hotel room.

"Then we've come full circle; you wouldn't leave me then, and I won't leave you now," Aaron repeated. "We're in this together."

"I will drag you down," she said simply, meeting his gaze.

He didn't deny it. "We'll manage."

"Then I'll be the death of you," Marta said flatly.

Aaron stared down at her for a while, conveying his full awareness of the ominous weight in his next statement. "We live through this together, one way or another-or we die together trying to."

Aaron was willing to die for his country, though it betrayed him. _Well,_ he corrected himself, _a corrupt _part_ of his beloved America had_. Now he was willing to die for this woman who hadn't forsaken him. But he certainly wasn't planning on dying. He wanted to live out a life _with_ her. Aaron began to refocus his mind on the multiple options and plans that might work for just that outcome. Before he completely ascended the ship's ladder to the uncertain future above, he leaned down to Marta's solemnly serene face as if to seal his declaration and his commitment to their survival, with a kiss that lingered.


	5. Adrift

**Chapter 5: Adrift**

Aaron was back at the table under the tarpaulin cover studying the maps exactly as Marta had seen him before the last time she approached him above deck. Instead of joining him again, she sunk down against the rusting superstructure of the fishing trawler and pulled a woven hat from nearby over her head to think. It was too large but served the dual purpose of shielding her from the sun, and from satellite surveillance-if Aaron's suspicions were correct.

Marta glanced up to find Aaron smiling at her, amused, at either how she looked or at her not joining him at the table. She preferred to be alone in her thoughts with no distractions. And Aaron was exactly that-his elbows propped up on either side of the maps laid before him, his arms and torso bare, defined and lightly tanned. She dipped her head so the silly hat would block his view of her admiring, delighted grin. Marta had to ignore him and concentrate on the shadow of an idea she felt roaming in the recesses of her mind. It was a feeling she commonly had when she was very close to a scientific breakthrough.

Aaron was completely charmed by Marta's awkward attentiveness. He had worked for so many years to elicit such attention that he was tempted to abandon his task and exploit the triumph. The moment had past too quickly, though, and he could see that she was already lost to him in her own solitary contemplation. Doctor Shearing was the studious, detached virologist once again. Watching her for a few minutes, he began to feel foreboding over what she could be considering so intently.

Aaron pulled his thoughts back to the plans percolating in his head and focused in on the most viable options. As it always was, the decision would be fight or flight. His natural inclination was to fight, and he had already zeroed in on a promising strategy he had been considering since seeing the news reports a couple days ago at the Newark airport. Without alerting Marta, he had kept up on the latest developments back in the states regarding one Jason Bourne.

The name carved into the Alaskan cabin bunk popping up with a suspect face in prime time, the same time as Outcome was being torched, was no accident. Aaron had no doubt the two events were related and Jason Bourne was obviously a similar kind of rouge agent, if not an Outcome recruit. His sharp mind reviewed the bulletin he had heard with almost perfect recollection. He needed whatever information Marta could share on the program details and its participants.

_Marta._ His deadly plotting suddenly halted at the reminder of her. Together, as Aaron had already determined the course must be, was a consideration to factor in. They stood a better chance if the choice was flight.

He looked over to see office-white bare legs folded over feet that tapped absentmindedly. Marta was staring off into the ocean, biting her lower lip in distant contemplation. Aaron's gut twisted at the sight of her childlike innocence. _No_, he reminded himself, _innocent would not be the right word to describe her. _Marta was not an innocent, and she definitely was not as vulnerable as she looked right now. Yet she did make things more complicated; left _him_ more vulnerable. Watching her, though, he couldn't regret the decision or his visceral need to keep her.

Marta suddenly stilled as if coming to a conclusion. She slowly turned towards Aaron, almost reluctantly, and her eyes met his with a nervous cautiousness that unsettled him. The look immediately vanished, replaced with a bright smile as she stood up and approached him at the table. She took her previous seat next to him and asked jokingly, "So, _do_ we get to be lost?" as she glanced down at his maps.

"Yes," Aaron smiled ruefully, then pointed to a nearby island at the beginning of a trail of dots on the map he had marked out. "Here," he continued, his finger following the jaunty line, "there, then when we make it here," he stopped on a larger black dot, "we'll be able to blend in a little better. Hopefully we can stay a day or two while I line up a safe house in one of the neighboring countries."

Aaron reached under the table and squeezed Marta's knee, teasing, "We can play back-packing hippies. You'll be cute in braids, but no attracting too much attention."

She smiled back at him but her eyes didn't quite reach is gaze.

"You have a different plan then?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, studying her expression.

Marta squared her shoulders, knowing he would not like what she had to say. "Yes. We can't outrun the US government and all its resources bent on our demise to protect their cover up. They'll never stop. Hiding only delays the inevitable under that scenario-our death."

Her eyebrow lifted in question, "Without me, your plan wouldn't be to run, would it?"

Aaron ignored her last comment. "First of all, it's not the US government after us, it's a small special projects division-specifically Eric Byer and his National Research Assay Group."

Marta knew the group but had never heard the leader's name before. "But the CIA, NSA or some other national defense government agency must have given the Research Assay Group sanction. They couldn't have done all they accomplished without proper authorization and financial support."

"Exactly," Aaron replied. "Most likely, only one branch has knowledge of Outcome. Our country has three for checks and balance. There may be only a few programs involved with NRAG and most probably don't understand Byer's full scope and mission. That works to our advantage."

"Then we only need to expose the truth about the National Research Assay Group to the other two branches. Or, to the media," Martha countered. "We take the fight to them, politically."

Aaron repeated a line of reasoning he had used before. "Can you go loud enough, big enough, fast enough that they won't shut you down before you can do real damage?"

Marta slumped in her seat a few minutes before she stared back at him with a quiet, but sad, strength. She looked up to the sky, shook her head and admitted, "Aaron, I'm terrified. I want to run and hide."

Her left hand found its way under the table to clutch at his, resting on her knee. She continued, "But I'll never feel safe and I'll be just as terrified waiting for them to track us down as I would trying to fight them."

Aaron wouldn't say aloud what he was thinking. Normally, he would've agreed with her choice to turn and fight. He already knew the plan he would follow, had he been on his own, to take down that prick Eric Byer and his a**hole Assay Group.

It was clear to Aaron that Marta was not aware there already was a political fight playing out in Washington. This was not information he was keen to share with her. She was already suggesting nearly the same offensive strategy. He was still sure that, to protect her, they needed a defensive course, not a confrontational one.

Aaron had caught enough news coverage to piece together that the blond congresswoman, Pamela Landy, was accused of aiding Jason Bourne. He knew Bourne had to be a rouge agent, like him, from the name carved into the training cabin in Alaska. His face wouldn't have been splashed all over the TV screen had he still been active. He was off the rails and they were tracking him down. They would have to stop him. Operatives still in play, like the one that nearly took them down in Manila, would already be on Bourne's tail.

It was a journalist that had been shot at the metro station. Bourne was reported to be there, presumably the one who shot him, but Aaron knew better. Bourne must have been trying to get to the reporter at the public location, but Byer had taken him out. Somehow, Bourne slipped out of the net that would've been laid out for him in the chaos, as it was reported he was still at large.

Aaron wondered if Bourne had made contact with the journalist before he was shot. Had he gotten information or, even better, evidence they could use to bring down the Research Assay Group and its backers?

It wasn't looking good for Bourne; he was deemed a terrorist with full military and civilian might against him. Even the agencies and branches that weren't privy to NRAG's true function would be after him. Selfishly, Aaron figured it worked in his and Marta's favor-as a distraction.

_Or to divide and conquer, _he thought, before dismissing it with a shake of his head. Any information or proof Bourne had hoped to get from the reporter was probably gone anyways. And Landy was on trial for treason, headed for a sure conviction.

As a terrorist, Bourne would never have a chance to testify at the trial, even if he could somehow appear at court. And, unfortunately, with Landy formally indicted and in custody, Bourne's ally had been neutralized and couldn't help him, even if he had somehow gotten some kind of evidence. If the two of them had been working together to expose Outcome and its affiliate groups, they failed.

Marta was watching Aaron suspiciously. She still hadn't told him her plan, but preferred to hear his first. He was obviously deciding on one but was leaving her out of the thought process. "What?", she demanded.

Aaron's reluctance to respond only encouraged her. "You know something or have a plan you don't want to tell me about. Am I right?"

He stared back at her in silence, trying in vain to come up with any better alternative to the only viable option they had if they were going to fight their fate. His fingers intertwined with hers, symbolic of their interlaced destiny. _Or destruction_, he tried not to think.

"Does the name Jason Bourne ring a bell?"


	6. Sunk

**Chapter 6: Sunk**

Marta was bewildered. "Jason who?"

He had to laugh at her expression. Then Aaron told her about the news bulletins, his story of the name carved into Outcome's cabin, and of his suspicions regarding Jason Bourne and Pamela Landy.

Marta brightened. "Then we team up with them!"

Aaron dimmed.

"No, this is good," Martha countered his gloom and squeezed his hand. "We may very well stand a chance now. We just need to connect with them somehow. With the four of us as witnesses, surely we can muster enough doubt to necessitate an investigation into the National Research Assay Group. The government will have to respond to media and public pressure."

Marta stood up and maneuvered around the table toward Aaron. He pushed the weather-beaten table away and caught her about the hips, pulling her to his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, her green eyes twinkled as she said, "We _can_ go loud enough, big enough!"

Aaron hated to dampen her excitement. "Landy's under indictment and Bourne is on the run," he reminded her.

"We have time. It's not like she's been executed for treason already. I know she would probably be impossible for us to reach directly, but she'll have a lawyer we could get to. Her trial hasn't started, has it?"

"Not as far as I know," Aaron answered, impressed, as usual, with her natural intelligence. Growing up as Kenneth, he had always been into to the smart, bookish girls that never gave him a first-let alone a second-glance. Despite his new, engineered intelligence, that type still did it for him. From his first encounter in the exam room with Marta and her distant, bumbling brainiac persona, Aaron was hooked.

Having tried for years to get her to even look him in the eye, Aaron was still amazed that Marta's big, brown doe-eyes were trained intently on his, absorbing all he said, only inches from him. Unable to help himself, Aaron suddenly pulled her in tight and kissed Marta passionately, surprising her. When he released her she just gazed back at him, a little dazed.

He smiled rakishly then continued the conversation, back on topic. "We may be better off tracking down Bourne first. If he's got an Outcome agent after him, we can probably trace a trail of destruction from newscasts alone. We need intel, though."

Bourne's provenance was a big question. Aaron figured Bourne was in some kind of beta program for Outcome, due to the length of his history, as reported in the news. He couldn't be completely sure, though, that the program he was involved in had been military, like Outcome was. It could be of CIA, military, or even NSA, origin. But those agencies almost always operated as teams, like the one at Marta's house, or as partners. Bourne, Aaron, the Outcome agent in the Alaskan cabin, and the Asian in Manila, had all been lone wolves. That fact pointed to one program at different advancement levels, all under oversight run by Eric Byer's Research Assay Group.

If that was correct, Bourne would have Byer himself after him. Aaron had dealt with him enough to know Byer was a cold, relentless zealot. He undoubtedly considered Bourne and Aaron dangerous, traitorous program defects and would stop at nothing to erase their stain on his impeccable service record. Earnest, loyal soldiers were simply disposable tools to Eric Byer's savage ambitions. _He would never stop pursuing them_, Aaron concluded unhappily. _Marta was right._

Aaron resigned himself to the fight with a sigh and summed up his thoughts aloud. "We have to get back to civilization and get our hands on the most current international newspapers, for a start. We need to confirm if you can visually identify Jason Bourne as Outcome. But given the time line, he was probably in another program under the same agency. Maybe one without the supplement treatment but under the same team. My guess is he was in the beta program to Outcome. We'll know for sure, if you recognize him."

Marta nodded her head in agreement, but some creeping thought was bothering her.

Aaron noticed the puzzled look on Marta's face. "What is it?", he asked.

Her brows were furrowed and her head was cocked in thought. "If your Eric Byer found it necessary to take out my entire research team at a private company lab..." Marta trailed off then began again, thinking aloud, "You told me, in the car, after we escaped my old house that if they were eliminating you-_plural," _she emphasized, "That I was a fool to think they wouldn't come after us scientists, too."

Her widening green eyes focused on Aaron again as her arms dropped from around him and crossed over her chest defensively. "Those people at my house," she shook her head worriedly. "They weren't Outcome agents. I was a senior researcher and saw all program participants myself. Aaron, they weren't in our program."

Hoping to calm Marta's growing fear, he assured her, "No, they wouldn't have been. You were an unstable, disgruntled employee who had been stockpiling dangerous chemicals, remember?"

She smiled weakly at him and Aaron continued, "It was a legit team that came after you-Homeland Security or the CIA." He shrugged, but registered a dark thought nagging at his subconscious.

Still troubled herself, Marta asked, "So the guy in Manila...?"

Aaron's blood ran cold and he silently cursed himself for not questioning Marta earlier.

Marta felt panic at the look on his face, then realization dawned. "I didn't recognize him," she admitted with a shaking voice, "I should have told you, but didn't think to, until just now. We were running for our lives and had just wrecked. You...you had lost a lot of blood. We made it onto the boat but you were unconscious. We...we barely escaped and I..." She cut herself off and closed her eyes in horrified acceptance.

"I'm so sorry, Aaron," she said, her hands holding her head, as she confirmed what Aaron had obviously already surmised. "He wasn't Outcome. There's another program."


	7. Flotsam

**Chapter 7: Flotsam**

Aaron was too astute in his new mental faculties to dismiss the valid fear gnawing his gut. Sometimes he missed being blithely unaware, as Kenneth had often been. He instantly compartmentalized his emotions, an instinctive habit, that Outcome training had drilled into him. Marta, however, was stricken.

"Hey, it's my fault I didn't realize sooner that the operative in Manila wasn't Outcome," Aaron confessed, his eyes scanning the horizon. Marta dropped her hands and looked back at him blandly.

"Really," he assured her as his mind calculated the distance between the land he had spotted and the boat. "I shouldn't have assumed he was a surviving agent of Outcome, kept active only for clean up, then terminated on mission accomplished."

"You only assumed that, though, because I didn't inform you that I didn't recognize him from the program. Am I right?"

"I should have debriefed you," he shrugged. "It doesn't change the scenario anyways. We're being relentlessly pursued by Byer's killer assets, period. That's nothing we didn't already know."

Marta's eyes challenged him. "I saw your expression before you could mask it. This is worse than you thought."

Her shoulders drooped. "I've hindered you already."

Aaron shook his head. "We're only a bit worse off than I thought we were a few minutes ago."

He looked toward the peninsula jutting into the ocean again. "We'd better step up our diversion plans and head for land now, though. I'll go talk to the captain while you round up our supplies."

Marta slid from his lap and stood before him, her arms crossed. "Only a bit worse off, hmm?"

Aaron rose and looked like he was about to reply but abruptly pointed towards the ship's bridge and began to walk towards it. Marta watched him, catching a ripple run the length of a muscle in his back as he left. She had soothed that tension not long ago, but he was taut and strained once again. Marta shivered as if the ripple had overrun and overtook her as well.

Aaron instructed the captain to drop them off at the nearest dock on the peninsula with a phrase in Filipino equal to "step on it". When he could feel the engines churning faster and the boat had swung towards land, Aaron felt a little better. He scanned the sea and the air once more, both visually and with the ships limited instrumentation.

Aaron was anxious to get off and get moving before the inevitable did come into view. His senses were on alert to pick up any additional sound or movement. He almost hoped to hear a drone bearing down on them. It would be a lot better than what he knew was more likely: another super-agent or two. Because if Bourne was beta, and Aaron was alpha, then the Asian was omega. An omega program to Outcome would be more advanced, more lethal. Its operatives would be faster, smarter, stronger and unbelievably ruthless.

Aaron took a deep breath of the ocean air with his eyes closed and held it as long as he could before slowly releasing it. His nerves set like metal as he exhaled, grimly preparing to head back to Marta. _Better to assess accurately,_ he reminded himself. _They were f***ed._


	8. Whirlpool

**Chapter 8: Whirlpool**

Aaron swiftly swung from the top deck to the lower as deftly as the Filipino boy had, approaching Marta as she sat nervously, awaiting his next instruction. She had already collected their meager belongings in the backpack lying on the table. Despite the chilling fear that had settled upon her, Marta felt the warmth of desire at seeing Aaron's lithe form stretch and flex effortlessly as he maneuvered about the ship. His strength and dexterity reassured her but she instantly felt remorse, knowing she crippled his abilities.

Aaron read the pained expression on Marta's face. He shot her a direct look, "Stop."

He leaned back against the table, crossing his arms as he frowned down at her. He glanced behind him, checking for the map. Seeing it still there, he twisted to grab it. He rolled it up and shoved it into the pack with a twinge of guilt at taking an important nautical tool from the fisherman. It was quickly dismissed as he recalled the glint of the thick gold watch on the satisfied captain's wrist.

Marta decided now was as good of time as any to tell Aaron her plans. She rose from her seat and stood before him, knowing he would take some convincing. But, hearing something she hadn't, Aaron turned towards the bridge. The Filipino boy jumped down onto the rear deck and spoke a few quick sentences to Aaron before smiling shyly at Marta and running off into the lower decks.

Aaron stared off into the distance, quietly thinking until Marta prompted him, "What did he say?"

"He confirmed the crew will be stopping for fuel at the next island where they'll stay the night offshore and begin their trip home at dawn tomorrow, as instructed."

"Then we'll reach land tonight?"

"Just before dinner time, fortunately. I'm sick of fish," he joked, easing the tension. "How does chicken curry on the run sound?"

"Messy."

"OK, chicken curry _to go_ while on the run," he clarified. A corner of his mouth lifting in a crooked smile but Marta was shaking her head seriously, her eyes downcast.

"No?" he questioned, ducking his head to catch her gaze. His hand reached out and he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her head to face him fully. Marta hesitated to answer. His thumb gently swiped her bottom lip; to prompt her to speak or out of longing, she wasn't sure. For Aaron, it was both.

"What is it?" he asked, beginning to feel suspicious. He sighed and dropped his hand as she squared her shoulders. Her chin remained aloft. He knew he wasn't going to like her response.

"We need to go back."

Aaron closed his eyes under furrowed brows and tried not to sound condescending. "Back where? The U.S.?"

"No, back to Manila."

That surprised him.

"_Why_?" he asked, incredulous. Then he cut any reply off immediately, "No. It's not possible-way too dangerous."

"Well, dangerous; yes," Marta conceded, "but still possible-and necessary."

"Nothing back in Manila could be worth the risk."

Marta sighed inwardly and sunk back into her chair. Aaron pulled over the other chair and sat down. He looked at her dubiously, waiting for the explanation. Her elbow came to rest on the table as her hand cradled the side of her face. Her pinky was held captive by her teeth, at its delicate fingernail, between her lips in an unconscious gesture as her mind churned. She glanced over to him reluctantly, but with resignation. She had obviously made her mind up, but was anticipating his displeasure.

Aaron had already begun running through his mind possible reasons for why she wanted to return and the likely consequences. Each scenario he imagined played out badly.

"Marta," he began dismissively.

"Hear me out," Marta stopped him. "I didn't know that agent in Manila, the one that came after us."

"Established," Aaron said guardedly. "They were using him to eliminate what was left of Outcome. And we know he wasn't one of your program participants..." Marta responded with a dry look at his comment but nodded her head. "...then there's at least one other, more advanced program."

"Right," Marta said emphatically, as if his statement supported her decision.

He looked at her pointedly, "Which is exactly why we can't go back. We've got super-agents on our trail. We have to put as much distance between them and us as possible, and always stay three steps ahead of them. It's our only chance. Even alone, I couldn't stand against multiple juiced-up assassin uber-agents."

Marta reflected the dismay she felt, but Aaron misread it.

"Hey," he soothed, taking her nearest hand in both of his under the table. "I didn't mean I'd stand a better chance alone."

Hoping to alleviate some anxiety from her face he added, "You were the one that took him out. Not me, right doc?"

"Aaron," she interjected, "I know full well that I was only able to catch him off guard because he had already dismissed me. I very nearly caused myself to fall off the motorcycle just flinging my helmet at him. He knew I was no threat. His disregard for me was the only reason I was able to sneak in a surprise attack."

She laughed with self-mocking, "Not even an attack-a lucky kick in wild desperation."

"It was a well-timed action of survival instinct that saved us both," Aaron contended seriously. "You can't discount that."

"It was a lucky escape and I doubt it will happen again. They will catch up to us, Aaron, and we will have to face them one way or another. Now is our only chance to encounter them on our terms. Yes, our chance of survival is dismal, but this is our one shot at a positive outcome."

Marta dared to address their likely fate, leaning in to repeat their earlier agreement. "We die together trying to."

Aaron was visibly troubled by her resignation to a doomed destiny. "I prefer the first part of our little pact-to live through this together one way or another."

Marta smiled and interlaced her fingers in his with a squeeze to placate him. "All I mean is, that I'm all in-no matter what happens."

Aaron nodded his head stoically, staring at their hands. Marta leaned back in her seat and breathed in deeply before saying, "I think we should stay on board the ship and return with them to Manila. Even if the Assay Group has identified this boat as the one we took from the docks, they wouldn't be expecting us to still be on it. Manila would be the last place they would look for us, right?"

Aaron countered her line of reasoning. "If they haven't already sent someone to confront this boat at the next harbor, you can be sure they'll be waiting to question this crew as soon as they get back. It won't take them long to identify this ship as our getaway. They'll have learned from the pier workers that we sailed on this fishing trawler. It would just be a matter of tracking its route fast enough to catch up to us. I'll consider ourselves very fortunate if we aren't boarded or blown out of the water before we make it to land."

Marta stared back at him unperturbed. "Fine. Then, if we're not obliterated in the next few hours, we'll switch ships at the fuel stop. We'll tell the captain we're heading elsewhere and point out a different ship. We'll make sure we're seen boarding that one so they'll wrongly inform anyone that asks later. We can jump ship before it leaves and stay the night on the island before stowing away on another sailing back to Manila."

Aaron knew it wasn't a bad plan, just a bad destination. "You do remember how much chaos we caused there? We'd be recognized instantly by practically everyone. I'm sure our faces are showing on all their news stations. And, that's just the general population. NRAG will scour the city for any tiny piece of information that might help them figure out our next movements. If a couple of those new science experiments aren't already on their way to intercept us, they'll probably be in Manila waiting for the next opportunity."

Marta sat dutifully during his speech, listening. When Aaron finished, his piercing blue eyes challenged her. She slid forward to the edge of her seat, drawing closer to him. "If we run, at best, we'll have a longer amount of time together before it's over. But I'll be a nervous wreck, expecting our imminent demise at any moment."

Her flashing green eyes softened as she made her next statement and changed the tone of their conversation completely. "Aaron, I wouldn't be able to make the time we had left together count, and I desperately want to. Maybe this way we'll only have a small amount of time together, but we can make the most of it."

Her words and shy boldness made Aaron's blood rush. He felt momentarily off-guard, and incredibly thrilled, but managed to remain wary. "That sounds like blackmail."

Marta's blushed crimson and her eyes dropped but she was smiling. One shoulder shrugged as she confessed, "It's the truth."

By the time she mustered up enough courage to meet Aaron's eyes, a solemn silence had fallen upon them. It wasn't exactly sexually charged; nor was it awkward. It was passionate, but honest, meaningful and intimate.

Leaning forward purposefully, Aaron finally broke the reverie, "Yeah, it is."

His lips met hers slowly, his eyes wide open during the full length of their chaste kiss. Marta blinked back at his intense stare but intuitively understood it. Their "something" had finally been laid bare between them.

It wasn't until he pulled back and smiled at Marta knowingly that Aaron blinked. _He had won whatever contest that was,_ she thought, but felt victorious in being the first to openly acknowledge the relationship they had formed.

She resumed her argument confidently. "Hitting the Research Assay Group head-on is our only hope of a fighting chance. That makes Manila worth the risk."

Aaron sighed, for more than one reason, but did not disagree. " 'Risk' is a major understatement."

He stretched, adjusting his strained body, then asked, "What exactly are you after in Manila?"

Marta shifted uncomfortably, hesitating. Aaron braced himself for her answer.

"The program medication."

Aaron's hand came up to rub at his temples as he quickly deduced her plan and groaned, "There's no chems at the plant so you mean any program medication the agent _might_ have had on him."

"Yes," she confirmed. "I should have searched him for meds before we escaped on the boat, but I didn't think of it at the time. You may think it's a long shot, but I really believe there's a good chance he was taking pills-that he wasn't viral-ed off medication yet."

Aaron dropped his hand and watched her explain, "It was our lab that developed the viral application that locks in the enhancement effects. Dr. Hillcott's discovery is what made that possible. Only a laboratory under his guidance could manage the development at such an early stage. Even with Dan Hillcott himself heading the team, we had a lot of issues to work through, and the viral injections were only successful recently. There hasn't been enough time for another lab to replicate a working version of the stems with a new formula on another project or program."

He couldn't help but be impressed, again, by her intelligence and talent. Marta felt she was a liability for him, but Aaron knew better. She was an asset-a dangerous one. Eric Byer was right to want to take her out.

She leaned back, spreading her palms before him in conclusion and asked, with a triumphant smile, "You see? They must be using medication. Yes; it could be advanced, but there's no way an uber-agent, as you call them, would be locked in. Not yet, anyways."

"If you're right, and we can manage to get this new medication somehow, why do you feel you need it?" Aaron was sure he knew where she was taking this idea, but had to ask. There were a few dark turns this course of action could take.

"Well, as evidence, of course." She spoke plainly, but soon glanced away under his glare.

With a slightly confused expression that didn't quite ring true to Aaron, she brought her focus back to him and suggested, "Or, as blackmail for insurance."

"Or both," he added, with a satisfied smile hiding a lingering unease about her plan.

"Yes," she smiled brightly, happy he had no more objections to her strategy.

_We have a chance, _she thought, with growing hope.


	9. Voyage

**Chapter 9: Voyage**

The ship made it safely to the small island inlet that served as a quick fuel and supply stop. After the fisherman and his son finished securing the ship to the dock, Aaron and Marta expressed their heartfelt thanks and gratitude warmly. The captain genuinely wished the Americans well as they hopped off the deck and made their way down the short pier but felt relief at their departure. He would follow Aaron's instructions to continue to the busy industrial harbor on another island in the area before turning back for home. He knew not to ask any questions.

Aaron guided Marta towards the rear of a village store that overlooked the island docks. They tried to severely limit their exposure as they worked out a means back to Manila. Marta was left to watch the docks and keep herself unseen while Aaron ventured out to somehow secure a return transport of sorts.

Having grown bored with her assignment, Marta mentally plotted scenarios and actions in Manila until she noticed a large speed boat pull up and an athletic Caucasian man hop off and secure the craft as dusk settled. A pretty blond emerged with an overnight bag and joined the man on deck and they proceeded toward town arm in arm. Martha jumped up and glanced around, anxiously searching for Aaron. After a few minutes passed with no sighting, she made her way hesitantly towards the dock, careful no one was watching.

Marta made her way stealthily on board and tested the latch to the living quarters below deck. It was locked tight.

"Pirate," a low, deep voice accused from closely behind her.

Marta nearly jumped out of her skin. It took a few seconds before her brain could catch up with her racing heart and realize it was Aaron. She turned to glare at him but he stood there with an amused smirk.

"Good eye," he complimented her, lifting his chin toward the craft. "Let's make sure they're staying on the island tonight before we abscond with the boat."

Marta's frown dissipated and nodded her head in agreement and they returned to the rear of the village store that had closed for the night. "How long should we wait?" she asked.

"A half hour should be plenty," Aaron responded, leaning her gently against a supporting post among boxes of supplies. "They would've returned for anything they'd forgotten by then. We'll be sure they're down for the night then we'll be clear to-"

"Pirate?" Marta arched an eyebrow at him.

He restrained himself from saying _Aye, aye_ and consoled himself with making the most of the thirty minutes to kill. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her to him, then pressed his lips to hers. He reveled in taking liberty with their stolen time, indulging in lingering kisses with wandering hands.

About fifteen minutes later Marta pulled away and asked "Are we in the clear yet?"

Aaron groaned but admitted, "Yes," but then more seriously added, "For now; but really? Never."

"Kill joy." Marta retorted as she escaped under his arm and made her way towards the unlucky couple's Bayliner.

"No, that would be you," he corrected her, his words coming out strangled and thick. He adjusted his pants before following her down the dock.

Well underway in their journey back toward Manila, Aaron sent Marta below deck to sleep. The guidance system on-board lead him in the dark overnight. He wanted to switch boats before dawn at a prominent island preselected for the purpose. Making good time, he felt relief to reach the destination in time to negotiate a passage on a small tourist cruiser. Waking Marta, they abandoned the speeder and made their way up the gangplank after most of the passengers had disembarked for their day's excursion.

"Aren't you nervous the Bayliner's couple will have reported their boat missing by now?" Marta asked as Aaron closed the hatch of their small interior cabin.

"There were no rentals or hotels within sight of the docks on that island so the odds are in our favor," Aaron yawned. "Obviously there's a chance a search will be on for the Bayliner a little later today, but the departure for Manila on this boat is 3pm so we'll be OK. I don't doubt for a minute Byer will figure out it was us who hijacked that speeder and it won't take long for his team to pinpoint this cruiser as our next transport. They'll know that we've headed back to Manila, but not until tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. We sail overnight and will be there in the morning."

He kicked off his shoes and sunk to the lower bunk wearily. "We'll need to be off the grid by then. I have to get at least a few hours sleep before we figure out how."

Aaron was asleep faster than Marta thought possible, under the circumstances. She relished a long shower in the tiny bathroom compartment. Noting the boat was empty with most of the passengers touring the island, Marta found her way to the buffet restaurant.

Cautiously facing the ocean view in a corner with her back to the room, Marta ate ravenously until she felt she would burst. She grabbed a few baked goods, fresh fruit and cartons of milk for Aaron and headed back to the cabin. Hoping Aaron was still sound asleep, she quietly slid her key card and flipped the latch to enter the room silently. Having stepped in, she glanced up to face the barrel of a handgun and a wild-eyed Aaron with his veins visibly bulging on extended arms aimed at her head. She froze in fear.

It took less than one second for Aaron to register that Marta was not the threat his ingrained training had reacted instinctively against. A myriad of conflicting emotions overtook him as he blinked into a fully awakened state. He hastily slipped the gun back into the back of his jeans and rose his hands in remorseful acquiescence. "I'm sorry, Marta," he said, his throat rough from interrupted sleep.

As the ice in her limbs melted, she was able to nervously lower the items she carried to a nearby table. "It's OK," she assured him, trying to stifle a tremor in her voice as she told him, "I brought you some breakfast."

Aaron's hand raked down his face. "It's not OK," he said, with an anxious grimace. "In any number of ways."

"What do you mean, exactly?" Marta asked, handing him a banana, her nerves settling.

"It's not OK I aimed a gun at you," he said with disgust. He took the banana from her and began to peel it, adding, "but it's not OK I hesitated either."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you did."

"Me, too; this time. But next time, when it's not you? I would've been taken out in that moment of hesitation and you'd be next. Those new and improved agents won't bother to confirm their target before taking a shot. If I've been able to come up with any weakness from our last encounter with one, it was the single-minded disregard for anything but the mission."

"They're reckless?"

"Almost."

"A weakness?" Marta questioned, hope rising. "You've found a weakness?"

"It's a dangerous trait," Aaron clarified, sitting down to finish off the food Marta had brought back for him. He noticed her shoulders had slumped. "But maybe we can exploit it."

Marta's eyes rose to meet his and they smiled.


	10. Underway

**Chapter 10: Underway**

Quietly contemplating a myriad of thoughts and plans, Marta watched as Aaron quickly ate the last of his breakfast. He got up, tossed the trash in the bin and grabbed a change of clothes from their backpack. In two steps he was halfway into the cabin restroom but paused, his hand on the latch. His piercing blue eyes glanced back at her.

Marta was marveling, scientifically, at the efficiency of his motion. Aaron saw in her the doctor he had tried to engage unsuccessfully for years under the program. Her face reflected the change as she became more aware of the man in the subject before her. Her head leaned thoughtfully, her green eyes expectant. It struck him then, that he had finally reached her. She saw him as himself, not the science experiment. He had captured her gaze and held it, in both a literal and figurative sense.

Aaron looked as if he was going to say something. She waited, but he faltered, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. After an awkward beat, he shook his head and chuckled under his breath as he began to close the door. Marta's expression brightened as she saw his soft laugh and demanded, "What?"

He grinned devilishly and she was sure he would avoid her question. "I'm taking a very overdue shower then we can figure out our plans for Manila."

"Okay, and...," she prompted.

"Care to join me?"

Marta's mouth opened in surprise. A deep, hot blush crept over her as his words sunk in. She blinked back at his big, penetrating blue eyes, recalling too many times he leveled the same look at her before. It was almost haunting, how he looked at her now; the confrontational, rebellious program participant with the probing, longing, accusing, demanding eyes. Dangerous blue eyes that she had avoided.

Professionally, it had been wise to use reflections in the exam room furnishings to look back at him. She found under his direct gaze she flustered. He saw too much. Though his stare was just as probing and longing as in the past, there were differences. His eyes were no longer accusing and were more searching than demanding. His question still hung in the air as she gaped.

Caught off-guard, she finally responded, without much thought, "I already took a shower."

"Too bad." Aaron dipped his head and entered the bathroom, closing the door.

Marta recovered with a laugh at herself and the interchange, shaking her head of the past images stuck in her mind. Five. He was Aaron Cross. He was Kenneth Kitsom. He was all three and undoubtedly more. She knew him. He was all she had.

Marta slipped out of the room to give him privacy, grabbing her big sunglasses and droopy sun hat. She made her way to the sun deck and sat down in a lawn chair facing the ocean. She took a deep breath of the sea air and sighed, warm in the tropical sun. It was a beautiful and deceptively peaceful day. She wanted to enjoy the calm while she could. Manila would be terrifying, if not deadly. But they had hope now, a mission: retrieve the program medication.

Time slipped away until a shadow eclipsed her and Marta startled, only to find a huge, fruity drink concoction thrust at her.

"Whoa, doc, it's just me." Aaron handed her the giant decorated pineapple and settled into the seat next to her with his own. He smiled, lifting the drink. "When in Rome..."

"Here's to blending in." Marta grinned back at him, her eyes squinting against the sun. She lowered the fruit and took a long sip. Glancing toward him again, she suddenly pulled off her sunglasses to get a better look at him. "Aaron, you look completely different!"

He was freshly shaved with a short, professional haircut in a high maintenance slicked-back style. Gone was the casual, windblown scruffy surfer look. Even his tan had been nearly scrubbed off. He was wearing khakis, a polo shirt and brown leather boat shoes.

"I hit the barber and then the men's shop on board. We're lucky this was a pleasure cruiser. It's small, but has a few upscale amenities we should take advantage of. You'll want to check them out before all the tourists start to return in about an hour for departure. We'll stick together, so go with a yuppie look."

"Okay." Marta sat up, slipped on her sandals and gathered her things. She stood up and turned to leave. Her hand lowered to brush his shoulder as she walked away. His fingers caught hers, stopping her. He wove his fingers into hers with a squeeze. She returned the pressure and he brought her hand to his lips. Despite being already past him, her arm extended behind her, Marta was careful not to pull it forward until Aaron released her. "Meet you back at the room?"

"Yeah," he replied. "We'll need to stay out of sight the rest of the trip. I'll round up dinner and whatever we can use tomorrow. Then we prepare for Manila."

"I'll get myself ready. See you soon."

Aaron sat back with a pile of newspapers he had taken from the lounge to scour for information on the investigation of Pamela Landy and the hunt for Jason Bourne.

About an hour later, Marta was newly coiffed and thoroughly waxed, buffed, polished and manicured by the cruise spa staff. She had picked up a linen blazer with matching slacks and paired it with a bright, flowing silk tank and nude leather wedge sandals, charging it to their room. Marta felt more familiar with this attire and felt a pang of nostalgia. Peter had been a shameless yuppie and always pressured her to keep up appearances with their upper class acquaintances. Aaron would find her adept at putting on airs and acting the part well if they needed to mix with the gentry. Peter had her well conditioned in that regard. Marta had always felt a fraud at dinner parties, but could navigate those waters adroitly enough.

Aaron had caught a little more sleep while Marta was out. He was in a waking state when she knocked at the cabin door and whispered, "Aaron?", knowing he would hear her with his amplified abilities. He pulled the latch to let her in and she stepped through with a teasing smile.

"See? I'm learning," she said, alluding to the last time she entered the room when he pulled a gun on her.

Aaron groaned and leaned in to peck her lips. "You look the part," he commented.

"That's the point," she retorted.

"Just right," he stated, though he didn't like it at all. He was too honest with himself to deny she looked too bourgeois and out of his league. Up until the blue pills he didn't even know what the term 'bourgeois' meant, but she was it.

"What's the plan for Manila?" she asked, settling into a chair.

Aaron got down to the business of laying out a game plan. "Byer will know we've headed back to Manila and will be searching for us sooner than we can get out. We'll need to be a couple of steps ahead of them to keep out of reach. He wouldn't expect us to stay at the Ritz, so to speak. So I was thinking we should stay at the most expensive penthouse suite in the city."

"Hence the country club look," Marta interjected.

"Right," Aaron nodded. "But we'll only be able to risk that for one night. Then we'll need to be on our way out of the country again. That means we need to grab the pills and be back on the run the day after tomorrow night."

Marta nodded, ready for the challenge. "Hopefully the program medication is still kept in the necklace container we had you wear. I'm counting on it."

Aaron nearly grasped at his chest to assure himself of the chain of pills that were once his lifeline. The relief he felt at knowing he was locked in with his enhancements was unfathomable for anyone but himself.

"I wish I would've thought to search the agent before we escaped!" Marta cursed herself aloud.

"We'll get it," Aaron assured her. "NRAG wouldn't claim the body in the U.S, let alone another country. He'll be at the morgue and so will any possessions still on him. The trick is getting access to personal effects of the deceased."

Marta looked to Aaron with expectancy. "You have a plan to get them from the morgue?"

"I would raise suspicion but think you can do it without the risk of a break-in. I hope you didn't toss your old clothes."

"No," Marta responded. "I can still play the hippie back-packer in pigtails if you need me to."

"Good," he said, squeezing her knee. "Let's do this."


	11. Off Course

**Chapter 11: Off Course**

The cruiser was sailing peacefully towards Manila as the sun set over the calm ocean. Aaron and Marta sequestered themselves in their cabin, away from curious eyes. They had finished a generous dinner brought by their steward as they reviewed their strategy for the next day.

"How can you still be eating?" Marta groaned as she flopped on the bunk that passed for a small bed. While on the fishing crawler, she starved, but now felt uncomfortably stuffed. She would have a hard enough time sleeping tonight with tomorrow's mission looming. The second dessert wouldn't help with the inevitable tossing and turning.

"Gotta replenish the reserves," Aaron replied, grabbing another dinner roll. He watched as Marta sighed and made herself get up to hang up her blazer and kick off her sandals wearily. She caught his quizzical look.

"This is all linen and silk," she explained. "I can't lay down for 5 minutes dressed like this if I'm to play the part tomorrow." Marta grabbed his black shirt from her backpack and looked back at him with an elegantly arched brow, her shoulders pulled back and chin lifted in a regal posture. In a dignified tone, she added "It wouldn't do," with a dismissive shake of her head. She gave him a wry smile as she stepped into the bathroom.

For a moment, Aaron sat struck by her utterly convincing transformation and the ease in which she fell into the role. It reminded him of the value their partnership held. They both brought insight, perspective and skills to contribute. He was sure they would put up a good fight together. They made a good team.

The pit in his stomach where, as a soldier, he shoved down and contained his emotions felt heavy. The familiar weight of an impending battle brought a restlessness. Fortunately, the sky had darkened and the ship was quiet. The track on deck would be vacant enough for a jog to focus his mind and hone his body for the mission.

Aaron had changed into his shorts and peeled off his shirt. He was lacing up his running shoes when Marta came out in just his black shirt, pulling pins out of her hair. The movement stretched the fabric across her chest, highlighting her shape. She glanced to him as she shook out her chestnut locks with a languid smile. Aaron felt a growing twist low in his abdomen, this one definitely not from the prospect of tomorrow's challenges. Completely unaware of what she was doing to him, Marta had turned and was hanging up the rest of her expensive clothes. The hem of the t-shirt rose high up the back of her legs as she reached for the hook. _Time to go._

Aaron stood up abruptly to leave before it became impossible to force himself out. He took a step towards the door, but in the cramped quarters she partially blocked his way out. He placed his hands on her hips to guide her to her right as he maneuvered around her. She turned to face him and ask where he was going, but the question caught in her throat seeing the heat in Aaron's pale blue eyes. Marta felt her body reacting immediately under his penetrating gaze and their close proximity. Her hands rested against him lightly and she could feel his tension as she let her fingers tangle in the sparse patch of hair on his hard, muscled torso.

Aaron was frozen in place, fighting his lust, knowing tonight was not the right time for this. There was too much he needed to prepare for Manila, too many scenarios he had to run through. His mind had to work out all contingencies.

Marta could plainly see his struggle and took pity on him, resisting the urge to test his resolve. So she tempered a seductive smile and wrapped her arms around his neck pulling herself up to place a quick peck on his cheek and released him.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, moving to take a step back, but he pulled her in tight against himself, not yet able to let her go.

"Just one kiss," he managed to say, allowing himself one small indulgence.

With a soft smile and melting green eyes, Marta's arms came up over his shoulders again and she rose to meet his lips. Unable to resist, Aaron's hands slipped around her hips and under the lifted hem line. _Of his black shirt,_ he noted to himself, with pleasure. There was something about her wearing his shirt that got to him.

_Especially when she wore it like this,_ he thought as his hands gripped her buttocks, squeezing her even closer against him. _F**k,__it felt good to grab her like this. Possessively. __I should feel bad._ But he didn't. He had craved to do exactly this for a very long time.

Marta's lips parted in a quiet sound of surprise at his unexpected boldness. Aaron took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue searching out hers. He leaned into her, his mouth and tongue aggressive, bending her backwards so her chest would press against his. His fingers continued to grasp the curve of her behind as his thumbs stroked over her cheeks, hungrily exploring the flesh when they found the line of her panties.

One hand left to hold the back of her head, keeping her in the kiss. Aaron loosened the grip of his other hand to float over her backside, his fingers running just under the length of the elastic band. He groaned but it held a trace of relief with the passion.

"Oh, thank god," he muttered in a strangled voice. He rested his forehead against hers as he caught his breath and battled for self-restraint.

Guessing at his thoughts, Marta blushed crimson and exclaimed, "Yes, I'm wearing underwear; if that's what you had to know." To think he could have hoped she wasn't embarrassed her.

Aaron groaned a laugh, not admitting anything. His throat was still thick with desire. "Now I really have to get out of here. I was heading out for a run. I have to focus on getting us through the next two days."

Marta squirmed to get out of his arms, pushing against his chest while craning her head away from him. "I wasn't stopping you. I didn't do anything at all," she said defensively. "You're the one who grabbed me."

As if prompted, Aaron's hands grasped her buttocks again, lifting and holding her in place against him. "I know," he admitted with a rakish grin. He squeezed her affectionately before finally letting her escape.

Her finger pointed accusingly at him with a dark smile. "This doesn't count against me as a distraction." She alluded to her past declarations about being a hindrance, slowing him down.

"Oh, I think it does," he disagreed, a suggestive smirk curling his lip.

Marta crossed her arms and frowned at him. The effect of her standing before him mitigated any look to convince him otherwise. He couldn't help but notice her nipples were tight and straining against the fabric of his black shirt. _Time to go. Again._

"And I think you were right before," Aaron said thickly as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss before he left. "You will be the death of me."

She narrowed her eyes at him but allowed his departing kiss. Once again unable to resist, Aaron's hand darted out and tweaked her right nipple playfully then dashed out of the cabin before Marta had time to react.


	12. Gangplank

**Chapter 12: Gangplank**

"Marta," Aaron said, gently shook her shoulder. "Wake up."

Marta's eyes fluttered open then closed again tightly against the bright sunlight that poured through a porthole. She rubbed her eyes sleepily. "What time is it?"

"It's time for you to get ready while I scout the docks. There's a few things on deck I need to check out. I'll let you know if it's safe for us to disembark with the rest of the passengers or if we need to jump ship."

Marta groaned and propped herself up on her elbows. "I'm afraid to ask if that's a joke."

Aaron just smiled back at her then gestured to the table. "I brought you a quick breakfast. Go ahead and get dressed in the clothes you bought yesterday. I'll be about half an hour and let you know if we need to change our plans."

He stood up and approached her. Marta noticed he was already Mr. William Fitzpatrick, the alias they had decided to use while back in Manila. She was his wife, Kathrine Fitzpatrick. She wondered how long he had been up. It had taken her forever to fall asleep last night. He hadn't made it back from his run before she finally drifted off. He sat down next to her on the bed.

"Did you sleep at all?," she asked.

"A couple hours," he replied. "I hope we won't have to do much running for our lives today. I nearly ran my legs off last night trying to clear my head, no thanks to you."

Marta scoffed, "Me?! I think not."

Aaron laughed, smiling ruefully at her then grew serious. "I finished up our identification. Yours is already in your purse, along with some other items a rich tourist would have on her. We've got a reservation for the penthouse suite at the hotel; the confirmation number is in your purse along with a burn phone. The number to mine is already programmed in. Only use it if we get separated then toss it. I've arranged for the two town-cars; their tips are prepaid, but I've got cash for the bellhop at the hotel."

"My purse?" Marta questioned, taking it all in.

"Yeah," he said, pointing to a beautiful sable brown leather handbag hanging from the hook with her linen outfit. "You said we should have Louis Vuitton luggage, right?"

"Yes," she agreed slowly and scanned the room. Her eyes widened when she saw three matching pieces next to the door. She highly doubted this ship carried the expensive luggage in their duty free shop. "You found those last night?"

"Found is not how I would describe it, but yes," he replied. "The purse was from the same cabin so I'm guessing it's an acceptable brand?" The question was rhetorical. "I suggest we be the first tourists off the ship. I jammed the lock to the rightful owner's cabin so they're stuck in their room for now, but that won't buy us much time once they realize it. Hopefully they aren't early risers."

"You've certainly been busy," she commented with a nervous laugh. Trepidation began to take hold. "I'll get ready quickly."

Aaron placed his hand over hers, his fingers pushing through hers to curl in the familiar, reassuring grasp. His thumb stroked hers as he continued, "I have the location to the morgue but I'll have to case it on my own, after we're settled in at the hotel. Just like we've planned. Do you remember?"

She breathed deeply to calm herself and recited dutifully, "Disembark at eight, take a town-car to the airport but don't go in the building. Pretend we forgot something and get in another town-car. Take it to the Manila Palm, where I stay while you're out doing your Outcome thing. We're booked for ten days but we'll leave the next day, after we have the program medication."

"Good." Aaron leaned over and held the back of her head steady as he kissed her forehead. He replaced his lips with his cheek pausing for a minute in silence before asking quietly, "Are you ready for this?"

She swallowed her fear and nodded her head, meeting his eyes. His big icy blue eyes bore into hers as if to imbue her with his strength. "Let's do this," she said, using his phrase.

Aaron smiled and squeezed her hand then reached into his pants pocket. "One more thing," he said with an odd voice as he pulled his fist out. Marta looked back at him quizzically. He opened his hand before her. On his palm was a pair of wedding rings.


	13. Beached

**Chapter 13: Beached**

"Hopefully the size isn't too far off," Aaron said awkwardly.

Marta blinked back a look of shock. Then she realized it shouldn't have surprised her. Of course they needed to wear wedding rings-they were Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "Um, thanks," she said and picked up the diamond ring. "It's beautiful."

She didn't put it on.

"Well, I'll let you get ready," Aaron said as he stood up. "I'll come get you in about half an hour."

Right on time, there was a light knock on the cabin door and Aaron stepped through as Marta slipped on her wedge sandals. A dark thought sprung into her mind, _I hope I won't have to run in these_. Shaking the somber musing, she straightened, her hands running over her hair to make sure the french roll was secure and the hairspray would hold in the ocean breeze. Aaron noted that her fingers paused at her earlobes. Her lips were a classic deep red and held a nervous smile.

"I'm ready," she said as she slung the new purse on her shoulder.

"Did you lose your earrings?" Aaron asked.

"Huh? Oh, no. I didn't have any solitaires so it's better to go without any," she explained.

He looked at her blankly so she elaborated, "I should have diamond solitaire studs but they would have to be genuine. It's better to go with no earrings at all than fakes or my silver ones."

"What's wrong with silver?" Aaron looked baffled.

Marta rolled her eyes. "Just trust me."

He shrugged. "Genuine diamond earrings it is then. You're as spoiled as you look," he teased as he picked up their luggage. He was well equipped to assimilate himself, but he certainly hadn't been trained on details for a woman to blend in. The needed intel to eliminate one; sure. But to cover one? Never. It was good luck that Marta was versatile.

"You really should have a gold watch, too. Throw that on the shopping list," Marta said as she followed Aaron onto the ship's deck.

"Anything else, your majesty?"

"I could use one as well but can get away without it," she replied. She didn't want to think about where or how he would acquire the items.

"All right." Aaron's voice had gone flat and his demeanor changed. His eyes were scanning everything and everywhere. He walked her to the gangplank the crew was securing to the pier. They were the first passengers at the gate, ready to disembark.

"We have a little time. Wait here," Aaron instructed, after scrutinizing all action at the port.

Marta tried not to panic at being left on her own. As the minutes ticked by and other guests started lining up behind her, it took great effort to look patient and bored. Her heart pounded as more crew members arrived. One asked her to step back as they lifted the gate to let the tourists off the cruise ship.

Marta gathered up their luggage and quickly turned to search the deck for Aaron, rising on her toes to crane her neck. She felt the push of the crowd behind her and didn't want to make a scene so she made her way down the ramp, hoping he would catch up to her.

Once on the pier, she slowed, pretending to struggle with the bags, and let other passengers pass her. She kept herself from stopping or turning around again, feeling instinctively it would draw attention. Aaron would spot her. _If he hadn't run into trouble_, she worried. _No,_ she steeled herself, _follow the plan. Don't panic._ She walked on purposefully towards the waiting cabs and shuttles.

Her heart sank when she reached the curb nearest the line of town-cars and limos. _Please don't make me do this alone,_ she prayed. Her eyes jumped open as she felt a hand come to rest suddenly on her lower back.

Aaron appeared next to her, leaning forward to hail a town-car he spotted holding a sign that read "Fitzpatrick". Marta felt faint with relief and let him guide her to the vehicle. Aaron carried their luggage, handed it off to the driver, then slipped into the leather seat next to her. When the driver closed the door, Marta gripped Aaron's arm tightly but remained silent.

"That was a lovely tour," Aaron announced jovially, as the driver prepared to pull away.

"The airport, sir?" the chauffeur asked to confirm their pre-selected destination.

"Yes, thank you," Aaron responded pleasantly. He leaned back in his seat and squeezed Marta's knee in good humor. He looked well rested and happy. Marta told herself to look the same but hazarded a sigh of relief as their ride swung into thick traffic.

"Darling," Aaron addressed her in a scolding tone, playing the part of William Fitzpatrick well. "You nearly forgot these."

His hand opened to reveal a sizable pair of diamond earrings that glittered in the sun as they caught its morning rays.

Marta couldn't stop a soft gasp from escaping her lips but she recovered quickly, falling into her role. "Oh, thank you, love. My grandmother would haunt me from the grave if I lost these."

She attached the heirloom quality solitaires to her lobes with a grateful smile. She leaned in and awarded him with a chaste kiss. She breathed a contented sigh, for the driver's benefit, as she leaned back against the leather to watch the passing city through the car window in peace she didn't actually feel.

Aaron glanced at the gold watch on his wrist to check the time. It looked a lot like the last one he had taken at Sterison-Morlanta's facility, he noticed. They would pick up their next ride for the hotel in about an hour. Their mission was underway and its objective their best hope. _So far, so good._


	14. The Manila Palm

**Chapter 14: The Manila Palm**

Aaron and Marta arrived at the Manila Palm hotel without incident just before noon. Service was swift and the concierge gracious as he welcomed Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick warmly.

"We have you booked through the ninth. Is that correct?"

"Yes, thank you," Aaron responded, watching from the corner of his eye as the bellhop took their luggage. "We plan on sleeping in tomorrow to recover from the long flight."

"Of course; shall I have the maid service postponed until, say, two o'clock?" the concierge asked obligingly.

"Perfect," Marta said. Noting a restaurant and a few store fronts in the palatial atrium of the grand hotel, she asked, "Is the restaurant serving lunch?"

"Yes, ma'am. If you wish, I will have a table prepared for you immediately."

"Very good," Aaron interjected and flashed his gold watch subtly as he looked at its face. "I have an appointment in less than an hour. We'll dine now, if you will be so kind as to send our things to the room."

The man nodded, directing the bellhop to proceed upstairs to the penthouse with their luggage.

"Please take good care of my wife while I'm out. See she has everything she needs."

"With pleasure; thank you, sir," the man responded taking a large bill Aaron passed him in a handshake. He walked them to the restaurant and asked the hostess to show them to a private table in their garden patio before leaving them with a bow.

Safe, for the time being, in their secluded dining setting, they relaxed a little. Aaron ordered a salad for Marta, a seafood dish for himself, and requested a fine bottle of white wine by name and year.

The waiter nodded approvingly. "Right away, sir."

When he left, Aaron grinned at Marta. He looked more like himself than he had all day. "I could get used to this."

"I wish," Marta smiled wistfully, breathing in the heady scent of tropical flowers surrounding them. "Is it back to a rank fishing boat or a hostel hovel tomorrow night?"

"No!" he replied, in mock offense. "I've lined up a perfectly good cardboard box in a back alley of the slums."

Marta groaned. "I would laugh if that wasn't a real possibility."

The waiter approached and poured their wine. William Fitzpatrick tasted and approved the bottle. Alone, Aaron was himself again and held his glass to Marta. "In for a penny, in for a pound."

"So we are." She gently clinked her glass to his and sipped the pale amber liquid. It was heavenly. "Do you know where we're staying tomorrow night yet?"

"I'll figure that out this afternoon, after I check out the morgue. We really need to be out of Manila as soon as we have the program medication. The city will be crawling with Byer's actives Wednesday morning, if not tomorrow night. We probably have a very small window of time to get back to the states before they figure out what we've done."

"He'll know we're after the pills once he discovers we came back here," Marta surmised and took a large gulp of the wine. She would need half the bottle to calm her nerves.

"Yes," Aaron acknowledged, "But the small window of time has just as much to do with Jason Bourne and Pamela Landy as it does Eric Byer."

"Oh?" her head leaned in question but waited for an answer as the waiter served their lunch.

When he left, Aaron explained, "Bourne is in Washington for a reason. If he escaped whatever program he was a part of, he should've stayed under the radar and kept running. But he's got himself splashed on national prime-time news in the heart of the US government."

He took a few bites and continued, "The assassination of the journalist will raise questions. Someone will investigate why Bourne would kill him. It won't take them long to figure out at least part of the truth, when they look into it, especially if Pamela Landy makes use the spotlight the press now has trained on her."

"I'm sure she knows she's NRAG target number one right now," Aaron stated. "She's worse off than even Bourne is."

"Or us," Marta added wryly.

"Hey, we're only numbers three and four on the hit list. It's not so bad," Aaron pointed out.

"Great," Marta grimaced. "And once they know we've poached the pills?"

"Don't ask."

Aaron finished his meal, anxious to get going. "It really is a good thing that Byer has to split his resources to target all of us, though. Bourne's operation group is dead; if not a while ago, then definitely by now. They've wiped out all of Outcome. That only leaves the alpha program and they're down one agent, thanks to you."

He swallowed the rest of his wine after toasting her with a proud lift of an eyebrow and a crooked grin. His blue eyes danced. "This has to be Byer's worst nightmare."

"And mine," Marta said sadly, though she hated to dampen his mood. She poured herself another glass of wine.

Aaron reached over and took her hand. His expression was now dead serious. "There's no better time for us to do this. We aren't alone in this. Bourne is out to gut the rot. I _know_ it. Pamela Landy may not be talking right now, I'm sure she's scared stiff, but she will. She'll know her only hope is to speak out, if not before we reach her, than certainly when we make contact and let her know we have tangible proof."

"Landy is connected to Bourne," he continued. "Her indictment includes harboring him as a terrorist, so if we can't get to him directly, she'll be the means. Our plan is sound; this can work. We just need to get back to the U.S before they neutralize the threat."

"I'll get us there in time," he promised confidently.

Marta wasn't sure if it was Aaron's speech or the alcohol, but she felt better. The beauty and splendor around them was beginning to dull her fears. There was no sense in wasting the gorgeous setting they found themselves in now. _Who knows what accommodations they would be in tomorrow night,_ she figured.

"You're right," she finally smiled. "I'm going to take advantage of being here at this lovely hotel while I have the chance."

A gentlemanly William Fitzpatrick brought her hand to his mouth and kissed a knuckle sweetly as a server cleared their plates. When the young man was out of earshot, a very _un_gentlemanly Aaron Cross told her, "Glad to hear it; I was hoping to take advantage of you here tonight, as well."


	15. A Manila Afternoon

**Chapter 15: A Manila Afternoon**

Aaron walked Marta to the atrium lobby of the hotel and leaned to whisper in her ear, his hand at the base of her spine, pulling her in close. To the staff and other guests they looked like a handsome young couple on an extravagant honeymoon, just as Aaron hoped. An older woman smiled knowingly at Marta, meeting her eye. Marta smiled back shyly, dropping her eyes in a show of modesty at her "husband's" public display of affection. She knew to keep it conservative, even if everyone assumed they were newlyweds.

Marta struggled _not_ to feel like a newlywed as Aaron's nose nuzzled her ear and his breath tickled her neck. She shivered, but listened attentively, thankful the warm blush she felt spreading over her fit the role.

"There's a line of palm trees on the south side of the building. One of the suite windows opens to it. Take the canvas pack I shoved in one of the suitcases and drop it to me when I give a signal."

Marta nodded and Aaron nipped her neck, finishing the bite with a quick kiss. She pushed against his chest. "William," she scolded.

He gave her a rakish look as he released her, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He was steps ahead in the mission already. "Enjoy yourself while I'm out," he said, no longer whispering. "I'll be back as soon as I can, but order room service if I don't make it in time for dinner."

"All right, love; but do try to make supper," Marta replied, accepting a much more formal kiss before Aaron turned for the exit. She sauntered towards the elevator, restraining herself from rushing to their room.

She let herself in the penthouse suite and paused a moment to admire its dazzling opulence and the breathtaking views of the ocean on one side and the best part of the city in on the other. She took in her surroundings and her eyes fell on the Vuitton luggage. She tore them open and pulled the canvas pack Aaron had prepared.

Orienting herself, she determined the southern windows and walked to them. Seeing the line of palm trees, she lifted the largest pane. Instead of hanging out the window and searching conspicuously, she leaned forward casually as if to take in the fresh air. She held her head steady but her eyes earnestly scanned for Aaron, noting two or three others in the area.

Finally, she saw him round the corner holding something in his hand that he tapped against the other. He nodded a friendly smile to the couple he passed slowly by, lifting something to his mouth. When he dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of metal that flashed in the sun, Marta realized it was a cigarette he had brought to his lips. _He didn't smoke_, she frowned. _Was he really going to light it?_ He did, and she saw the couple glare at him before walking away.

He stood, casually smoking until the only other person in the vicinity, an old man taking a stroll, was out of sight. Aaron didn't look up as he made an emphatic gesture of stubbing out the cigarette against the pack. He shoved the pack in his pocket and headed towards the other end of the building on a path that would cross below her.

Marta glanced all around nervously. Seeing no one, she dropped the bag as he neared the spot below her. Aaron took a few quick steps and easily caught the pack, despite the fact it had plummeted from a substantial number of stories above. She watched from the corner of her eye until he had disappeared down the far street, heading north. She waited a few minutes then stepped back and pulled the window shut. All she could do now was wait.

Marta explored the suite and unpacked their things. She found herself pacing restlessly so she laid on the bed, closed her eyes and breathed deliberately to calm herself. As her heart rate slowed, her mind drifted. She mentally reviewed their plan for tomorrow, though Aaron would have to fill her in on whatever arrangements he was making now. Like where they would go when they had successfully obtained the program medication she was after and how they would get there. Depending on the results of today's scouting mission, the plan was for her to acquire the pills from the morgue. Melancholy at the thought, she redirected her focus to their conversation earlier, in the restaurant.

They would be leaving the Philippines for the United States tomorrow night. Perhaps they would take a round-about course, but they would make their way home nonetheless. They would seek out Pamela Landy's lawyer and maybe Jason Bourne himself. Bourne-another rogue operative, like Aaron. She wondered what his story was.

Dr. Hillcott and their team had only successfully achieved results with the volunteers in the last few years. The stem protocol to lock in the enhancements had only been approved in the last six months, due to some complications in subject tests. She doubted, therefore, that a forerunner to Outcome had the benefits of the physical and mental advancements she and her colleagues had developed. Aaron and Marta had barely survived the last week. She marveled that Bourne had lived years on his training and skills alone.

_Had he been alone?_ she wondered. Aaron refused to leave her. She couldn't understand it, but he was adamant that they stay together. Kenneth Kitsom may have been a perfect Outcome candidate, but Aaron Cross was not cut out to be a lone wolf. He was too personable and honorable. He was almost old-fashioned in his patriotism, idealism and loyalty. He was too alive; too passionate.

Marta's reflections moved from Bourne's possible motivations to Aaron's. He wanted to expose the corrupt part of the government that used its soldiers as science experiments. But he was willing to forgo that fight to run; with her. For her.

He didn't like that she had insisted they come for the evidence they needed, because it put her in danger. He wasn't much concerned with his own safety. He had declared they would live through this together or die trying to. He would die for her.

Suddenly, Marta knew she would die for him as well. The revelation should have terrified her, but she felt free and happy. She wasn't dead yet. A very different restlessness overtook her and she sat up from the bed. She was going to take advantage of the hotel's amenities, as she stated earlier. She stood and grabbed her purse, deciding to head for the fancy parlor shops in the atrium.

Thinking of Aaron, Marta's heart swelled as she rode the elevator down. Then a heavy, but thrilling, ache settled low in her abdomen as she silently agreed with his not-so-subtle suggestion to make the most of tonight.

_And of every night they managed to stay alive,_ her mind added, with growing anticipation.

Entering the grand lobby, Marta walked towards the french boutique she had spotted earlier. The concierge had noticed her arrival and was pleased to see she would be shopping. _American husbands always indulged their new wives when they stayed at the Manila Palm, _he thought to himself, smiling. The shrewd man was only to happy to rush forward, hold open the door, and personally introduce Mrs. Kathryn Fitzpatrick to the boutique's manager.

"Mr. Fitzpatrick instructed us to take good care of his wife. Please see she finds everything she needs and wants for nothing. Her husband would consider us remiss to keep anything but the best from her."

He turned to Marta with a sweeping bow. "Charge all you desire to the penthouse suite. Please, enjoy yourself and experience the finest we have to offer. We are at your service."

As he left the rich customer in the older french woman's hands, he winked back at the manager from behind the petite brunette. It was a silent reminder that he be paid his cut for delivering her.

The distinguished Frenchwoman lifted a haughty brow at the gauche little man then turned her graceful attention to her guest. "My dear, how can I help you?" she asked in a charming accent.

Marta bit back a smile at the disdainful look the woman had leveled at the concierge. She liked her immediately. She felt comfortable enough to tell the owner exactly what she wanted. "I desperately need your help," she admitted. "There was one piece of our luggage the airlines misplaced. They have located the bag and will bring it to us here at the hotel, but it won't arrive until the day after tomorrow."

"It was, of course, the most critical piece," Marta appeared to despair. "It was all my toiletries and...feminine items."

The Frenchwoman nodded her head in understanding and patted Marta's shoulder in sympathy. "Don't you fret, my dear, I have everything you need. I'm afraid this happens all too often. Despair not; I have even the most intimate of items a pretty young wife, such as yourself, could require."

"Or desire," the woman added, her eyes twinkling. "This a french boutique, after all."

Marta smiled brightly in a gratitude she didn't have to pretend. The owner searched behind the counter, then handed her a pad of paper and pen.

"Just write down anything you hope for that you don't see on display, no matter how personal the item and I'll make sure you have it all within the hour and with all discretion."

"Voila! There we have your needs met," she clasped her hands together, "Now for your desires..."

She led Marta to the most beautiful, delicate silk and lace pieces she had ever seen. Each garment was a tasteful work of art. She admired and fingered the garments gently, until she felt the Frenchwoman looking at her, a distinguished brow rose in question.

"...and the desires of your husband, too. No?" she asked with a soft smile.

It had been relatively easy for a clean-cut foreigner to make connections with the Filipino underworld. A few off-color comments in the right (meaning wrong) places and a young call girl arrived at the hotel room of a German college student that considered himself very lucky. An American man renting the adjacent room had to leave before he could enjoy his prepaid visit with the prostitute. His wife had grown too suspicious. He was generous enough to offer the experience to the German in exchange for his ratty straw cowboy hat. The student would miss his favorite open-weave hat, it was perfect for the sultry Manila heat. But the exotic heat he indulged in that afternoon, he decided later, was worth it.

When the girl left the hotel, Aaron followed her back to her handler, whom he tracked to a nondescript store in a busy market area. He was on a tight schedule, so he figured he had no choice but to extract needed information on smuggling means quickly from a man he determined was second in charge. Avoiding most of the gang, he was able to get what he needed-plus bonus guns, money, and drugs-with only four bodies to stash. One had been the driver of a van Aaron calmly drove away in, the rim of his new hat low on his brow. He placated his conscience with reasoning that the city was better off without the men whose bodies lay piled in the back.

Aaron now sat concealed in a vacant floor of an old building, watching the morgue from a dusty window. The van sat parked in reverse, its rear doors blocked against the structure's wall in the parking lot underneath for tenants. The dark lot looked like it was in enough use that the van's appearance wouldn't be questioned, at least for a couple of days. He had observed the activity for about an hour, looking for the best means in. Train and bus schedules, newspapers, car rental brochures and scribbled notes from a quick search at an internet cafe littered the area around him.

As the sun was setting, the last of the employees filtered out of the morgue. Aaron honed in on a trendy-looking younger woman who hung back to dig in her purse. She wore her hair spiky and short on one side, the other was longer and hung in a wedge over her left eye. Eventually she pulled out a set of keys and locked the building. Then she dug out a cell phone, hit a button and held it to her ear with her shoulder as she continued to rifle through her bag. She was pulling out a lone smoke and trying to light it when she dropped her bag. She swore loudly as she bent down to pick it up then exclaimed into the phone in an animated conversation.

Aaron wouldn't have needed his enhanced hearing to listen to her side of the call through the open window. She was asking someone how close they were, who they had with them and if they had time to stop for drinks. Suddenly a horn sounded from down the road and she shouted out and waved her arm. She shoved the phone back in her bag and neared the curb as a car swung in next to her. She laughed with excitement as a young man who could've been a Filipino rock star emerged and rounded the vehicle to reach her. She jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around him. He stumbled to the passenger side of the car as they kissed, all tongues and groping hands. Their friends in the back got impatient and began hollering and pounding on the windows.

The couple broke apart laughing. He opened the passenger door for her to get in but stole the joint from her hand as he did so. He closed the door as she protested playfully and jumped around the front end to slide into the driver seat. With a screech of the tires, the group was off to a long night of revelry and fun.

Aaron smiled from his perch at the antics, yes, but primarily because he had found their in. _This just might work._


	16. A Manila Evening

**Chapter 16: A Manila Evening**

Marta made it back to the penthouse suite later than she planned on but Aaron had not arrived yet either. She shut the door behind her with her foot and put the bags she carried on the nearest chair. Her stomach grumbled as she kicked off her sandals. Not knowing how long Aaron would be, she decided to order room service for them both. She figured he would be back soon if he was going to make it back at all. A jolt of fear struck her at the thought of him not returning but she cleared her mind and picked up the phone to dial the hotel's dining services.

While she waited for both dinner and Aaron to arrive, she emptied the smallest of the shopping bags onto a side table. Marta opened a small pharmaceutical box and popped a tiny blue pill out into her hand. Grabbing a few more items from the pile, she crossed to the dresser where a tall glass container of water was. She unscrewed the cap and swallowed down the pill. She walked to a bedside table and dumped the most intimate things the kind Frenchwoman had procured for her into the drawer. Getting pregnant would be very, very bad in their current situation.

The rest of the items on the table were mostly cosmetics and toiletries. They were an indulgence but, Marta thought with a smile, that was exactly the purpose they would serve. If she only had one night in this luxury, she would relish it all while she could. The fingers of her right hand absent-mindedly twisted the rings on her left. It didn't matter what she and Aaron were exactly; they were in no position to live a normal life. They wouldn't get to know each other in a formal sense. They weren't dating. In their cohabitation, a one night stand or casual sex wasn't an option. They weren't married; but it had to be all or nothing between them, so they may as well be.

Aaron had been pretty clear about his choice; he was all in. Marta only just realized today that she had to choose and be clear with him now, either way. She knew he would honor her wishes, whatever her choice.

Alone this afternoon, as Aaron was out seeing to their future, she had made her choice and was happy to embrace it wholeheartedly. Marta was committed-to redeem herself, to fulfill their mission, and to the man Aaron himself. Though not legal or official, in spirit, tonight was her honeymoon.

A knock at the door startled her and suddenly Marta became anxious. She hesitated, expecting Aaron to come in. When the door didn't open, she chuckled to herself and felt like a nervous teenager. She looked through the peep-hole in the door and saw that it was a waiter with their order. Aaron had trained her to keep exposure to a minimum while not raising suspicion, so she spoke through the door.

"I'm sorry; you've caught me indecent. I will be a few minutes. Would you leave the dining cart there for me?" Marta asked in an apologetic tone.

"Yes, of course, ma'am," the waiter answered. "Please call if there is anything else we can do for you."

"Very good of you." She waited until she heard the elevator slide shut then she wheeled the dinner into the room and ate just enough to tide her over for the night. Once finished, took the toiletries to a vanity table and began arranging them. There was a soft knock on the door then it slowly opened and Aaron stepped through, greeting her with a smile.

"Hi," she said simply but her voice was full of relief. "How did it go?"

"Better than I hoped," he replied but had his back turned to her as he looked out the peep-hole of the door. His eyes performed a sweep of the room then he looked out a window of every side of the suite, checking the surrounding buildings and streets. He opened every closet, room and shelf. He felt along the back side of each table and dresser, even under the bed rails. Satisfied, he finally turned to Marta and looked her over observantly.

"You're in the same clothes."

"I went shopping," she gestured to the bags on the chair. She assured him, "Just in the hotel's shops. I picked up some supplies but mostly, I'll admit, I splurged."

"On what?" Aaron asked, eying the dining cart.

"Myself." Marta answered evasively, laughing. "The steak dinner is yours."

He lifted the metal dome, savoring the smell of the rich food. "I'm famished," he exclaimed, flopping into the nearest chair to dig into the feast.

"Did you work up an appetite?" Marta asked, wondering if he had run into any problems.

"I suppose so," Aaron mumbled around a hunk of meat he had shoveled into his mouth. He swallowed. "There was some action with a few unsavory characters, but we scored ourselves a few extra guns, some incentives and a van."

"Incentives?"

"Cash and drugs," he replied, taking another bite with a shrug. Marta's eyes widened at the casual mention of drugs but didn't probe further.

"The van is in an underground parking structure near the morgue," Aaron continued, spearing vegetables. "Which is convenient; we can take it to a small airstrip just outside of the city once we have the program medication. I've pegged a contact at the morgue I'm pretty sure we can use to get the pills. You still up for it?"

Marta nodded, not sure a 'yes' would sound confident enough right now. "What will I do?"

"All you have to do is approach a young woman as she's getting off work and hope for a little sympathy. Piece of cake," he winked at her, wanting to put her at ease. There was no use worrying about anything tonight.

"We've got all day tomorrow to go over all the details. I spent today setting us up so we're good till about 2pm tomorrow, when we leave the hotel."

"OK," Marta said with a nervous smile, standing. She walked towards the bathroom. "I'll take a shower while you finish dinner."

"Wait..." Aaron stood as he scooped a few more bites into his mouth and chugged half of a bottled water. But as he turned towards her, she avoided his eyes and quickly closed the door behind her. He frowned as he heard the lock turn over.

He drank the rest of the water slowly as he waited a few minutes. He almost expected to hear the bathroom door unlock after the toilet flushed and the shower began running, but it didn't. Fighting frustration-however irrational-Aaron sat back down to eat, without really enjoying the meal.

To Aaron, Marta was taking forever, even after she had turned the shower off. He could hear her brushing her teeth, using the hair dryer and messing around with who-knows-what women products. He had just about lost his patience and was about to pound on the door to tell her to hurry up when she unlocked it and swung it towards him, stepping through. She startled to see him standing over her, his arm outstretched against the frame.

Marta had a towel wrapped around her that she clutched at her chest. It revealed the full length of her bare legs temptingly. He stilled at the sight of her, all previous irritation gone, replaced with bother of a different type. She had her hair twisted up on her head in another towel that she held aloft with her other hand as she dipped under his arm swiftly.

"The shower's all yours," she said, still not meeting his eyes, and walking briskly to the vanity table where she sat down and pulled the towel off her head.

He stared after her for a beat, wondering why she was so distant with him tonight, then gave up waiting for her to turn to him and took his turn in the bathroom. Marta relaxed after she was alone in the room and hurriedly ran her brush through her hair, her natural curls fluffed back into place with her fingers. She rarely wore her hair free like this, it was too unruly for her taste, normally. But she was not feeling tame tonight. She picked up the kohl liner and made her eyes up dramatically, using the cosmetics and tools she had picked up downstairs. She finished her make-up with a pale french lip paste that was more a chap-stick than lipstick. It had a little gloss to it without being sticky. She silently praised the ingenious Frenchwoman again.

With a quick glance back at the mirror, Marta strode for the chair across the room to reach the shopping bags. She pulled out a long, thin black silk robe with a faint Asian design hand-stitched in a fine silver thread. To Marta, it was the embodiment of moonlight rippling over a Manilan midnight.

The screech of a faucet turning brought her out of her brief reverie. The water of the shower had stopped so Marta quickly pulled out a pair of elegant, deep maroon red undergarments so dark they almost looked black. She dropped her towel to slip them on and hooked the silken lace bra.

She could hear Aaron using the sink, probably to shave and brush his teeth. Marta figured she had a few minutes to straighten things up. She pulled on the exquisite robe and tied it about her waist, admiring the quality and praying she could keep it, even after tonight. She walked over to the dresser to pick up the other tall glass bottle of spring water and set it on the other nightstand so there was one on both sides. She turned down the covers of the bed folding them at the foot so they were out of the way but could be pulled up easily. Marta suddenly felt silly and very anxious.

The feeling only intensified as she heard the bathroom door swing open. Marta turned away quickly, facing the wall and took a steadying breath. Aaron hadn't looked her way, he was stalking towards the luggage, still feeling rather annoyed. He picked up his case and dropped it on the couch and began rifling through it. He had toweled-off but was still damp, his hair dripping beads of water. He raked his hand through his wet hair pushing it back from his face and wiped his hand on the towel around his waist. He held it in place as a knot in his other hand. He was pulling out contents from the bag and dropping them carelessly on the couch but stopped as he felt a gaze upon him. He slowly turned to face the eyes he felt watching him.

_Holy s**t._ He had almost resigned himself to Marta's confusing aloofness but nothing about her was cold anymore. Dark, sultry eyes looked him over in languid relish as Aaron stood rooted in place as his mind stuttered to catch up with the unexpected change of atmosphere. He noticed his body had caught on a lot more quickly than his brain.

Desire had stilled Marta's nervousness and she approached, her robe billowing out behind her making it look like she was floating to him. She stopped a few steps in front of Aaron, just out of reach, and met his big, mesmerized blue eyes. He stared back at her, searching her limpid green eyes. He understood now why she had always avoided looking at him in the lab exam rooms. He could see straight into her soul and read her thoughts. She was his.

As if she could read his thoughts just as clearly, Marta's lips curved in a soft, inviting smile and she untied the belt about her waist, to let the fluttering robe hang open. Aaron drank in the sight of her with a powerful hunger barely contained. He burned the image into his brain so he would never lose the breathtaking image of Marta entrusting herself to him completely.


	17. Midnight in Manila

**Chapter 17: Midnight in Manila**

Marta expected Aaron to rush and grab at her but, as usual, he caught her off guard. He stood still in silence, his stance stiff and straining but his eyes roamed over her with earnest intensity. Minutes passed, and just as she was beginning to feel shy under his scrutiny, Aaron shocked her by dropping the towel from around his waist.

He openly exposed himself to her without reservation. Aaron stood naked before her, his erection plain and prominent, his desire on display for her. A rush of current ran through Marta and electrified her insides with a low, searing twinge. His body was all masculine, hard and angular. A latent power in his form radiated strength. He looked dangerous. She remembered that he was engineered-a scientific accomplishment achieved, in part, by her work. She was about to be f**ked by evolution's newest incarnation of man. A fire ignited between Marta's legs.

She had played a major role in creating this magnificent specimen, she thought, admiring him. _It was so wrong to feel like a god. A goddess. _In this moment, she couldn't manage to feel the crippling guilt she had experienced before of her part in Outcome. Marta felt like confessing to Aaron so he would make her pay for being unrepentant. Her eyes, dark with lust and power rose to his, then froze at his expression.

His chiseled, muscular body was all Aaron Cross, but his face held an innocent vulnerability that was all Kenneth Kitsom. His pale eyes reflected a haunting need and loneliness that begged for her acceptance and affection. Shame and remorse flooded Marta. Once again he proved himself the better person. He never ceased to unsettle her.

"I've wanted you for so long," he told her.

Marta's lips parted to reply but no words came to her, neither did any thought. She moved instinctively toward him, though, and her fingers found themselves claiming his arousal. They ran the length of him, touching every glorious inch of his yearning, throbbing erection. She felt him shudder as her fingers swirled around its smooth tip and trailed back down to cup his testicles in her hand. Her fingers played with them gently as her other hand closed around the thick staff of his penis and squeezed.

A deep, guttural moan escaped Aaron but he made no other move. He shut his eyes tight, relishing the feel of her intimate, exploring touch. Having her hands on his cock was heaven.

Marta resisted the urge to drop to her knees and take him into her mouth. There would be other times for that; tonight was for more than just sexual pleasure. The ghost of Kenneth's desperate longing permeated Aaron's need. She stepped in closer to him and clutched his engorged arousal, pulling it to her lower abdomen. She held it firmly against her, possessively.

Aaron's hands rose to take her head in them and guide her face to his. "I've wanted you for so long," he repeated, demanding a reply from her.

Marta pressed his sex tight against her body in an erotic embrace. "I know," she admitted. "I'm all yours."

Aaron pulled her face up to his and kissed her. It was a strong, full kiss and lasted until they had to take a breath. Their union was now sealed. Aaron's lips were back on hers immediately, more insistent, his hands gripping her more securely, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Her arms rose to wrap around his neck, pressing her body against his more completely. His hands slipped into the opening of the silk robe and pulled her hips in tight to his.

Aaron's grip loosened slightly to travel lower to the familiar curve of her buttocks. His fingers found their way to the underside of her bottom and explored the meeting of her legs to her plump flesh before slipping just under the lace barrier of her panties. His fingers traced the line of her behind, then dug in, to her haul her up on her toes, and grind her pelvic bone against his erection.

His head pulled back to peer down at her when he took a deep, staggering breath. He pinched her playfully with a roguish smile. She wriggled against his cock in retaliation. He hissed a ragged laugh then crushed her triumphant grin with his lips. His hands slid slowly up over the curve of her rear as he lowered his head to her neck. Marta leaned back in his arms as he kissed, bit and sucked his way down to the base of her neck. His warm hands continued to rise up her back languidly. He eventually reached the straps of her bra at her shoulders.

Marta let the robe fall to the floor. Aaron pulled the straps from her shoulders, replacing them with nibbling kisses as her fingers threaded themselves in his hair. Her body arched against him so her breasts, barely contained in the cups of the bra, were thrust forward invitingly as he moved lower, his tongue leaving a wet trail down her chest to where her heart beat wildly. He rested his ear against her breast and listened to her heartbeat, grateful she was alive and safe in his arms; that they had this time to spend together. Aaron looked up at her from between her breasts with a contented smile.

The smile turned wicked as he reached around and unclasped her bra. It dropped away, laying bare Marta's beautiful breasts. Aaron leaned back, as he knelt, to look her over and take in a sight he had dreamed of for years. He reached out and traced the curve of each breast lightly with his knuckles. Then splayed his fingers over her, stroking her soft, supple white flesh. He cupped both of her breasts in each of his hands. He lifted them gently and squeezed. His thumbs strummed her nipples until they were so taut they strained.

Aaron leaned forward and took her left nipple into his mouth, running his tongue soothingly over it. His hands continued to knead her, then his fingers pinched and pulled at her right nipple as he began sucking and nipping at her left. Marta's head fell back and she groaned in pleasure, her chest thrusting her breasts into his hands and face with growing urgency. His mouth switched sides to swirl his tongue over her right nipple before taking it gently between his teeth. He rolled her left between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it repeatedly. He sucked on the right nipple hard and Marta trembled.

"Aaron," she moaned, pulling his head back by his hair. He released her breasts after kissing them tenderly, then his hands moved lower down her body. They came to rest on her hips as he nuzzled her navel and placed open-mouthed kisses on her stomach. His fingers hooked the sides of her underwear and he pulled the lace down over her hip bones, placing a kiss on each exposed hip, and slid the panties down her legs.

Marta placed a hand on his shoulder to step out of the garment. She felt his hands rise slowly up the back of her legs. Her face flushed as he squeezed her buttocks, nipped at an inner thigh teasingly, and breathed in the scent of her sex. Aaron kissed his way up her body, his hands touching her everywhere his lips missed. He lingered at her breasts, then her neck, and finally straightened, standing over her. He took her face in his hands and held her, his piercing blue eyes searching hers. He stroked her cheek and jaw line as he stared at her, his expression full of feeling.

His thumb passed over her lower lip then he leaned down and kissed her gently. The kiss was long and lingering. Aaron took his time with her, brushing his lips over hers. He opened her mouth with his and stole her breath. His tongue tasted her lips, parting them. He sucked and licked and gently bit her lips, as if he could consume her. His tongue entered her mouth, seeking hers. Her tongue met his and he couldn't get enough of her.

When Aaron finally pulled back from her mouth, he kissed her cheeks, then her nose and smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners. She smiled back at him, her green eyes shining. Her head tilted, wondering why he had lightened the mood. He grinned at her suspicious expression and kissed her forehead with a chuckle. It caught in his throat; he had to choke back his lust. Marta narrowed her eyes at him. _He couldn't possibly be reigning in his passion now. They were both well past the point of no return._

Aaron had now gone dead serious. "I love you," he told her.

Marta was stunned. Before she could react or respond he picked her up bridal style and carried her to the bed. He laid her down in the middle and crawled in next to her. Marta's jaw was still slack in surprise so she didn't have to open her mouth to speak. "Aaron,..."

He stopped her with a finger to her lips. Then trailed the finger over her lips, tracing them. Leaning over her on an elbow, he kissed her. His right hand was in her hair, cradling her head as his tongue pushed through her lips and tangled itself with hers. Aaron shifted, his body coming up over hers. His kiss became hungry and insistent. Marta could barely take a breath before his mouth was on hers again. His head turned, his tongue plunging deeper, overpowering hers.

Aaron lowered himself to her, a muffled groan escaped him as his body pressed fully against the length of hers. His tongue moved wildly in her mouth, its need stoking the fire that blazed within her. Marta began to squirm under the weight of his body. She felt a shudder run through of his body. His erection pulsed and strained hot against her thigh. Aaron broke their kiss and took a haggard breath, his forehead resting against hers.

Marta's hands roamed freely over his chest and shoulders. She ran her hands down his arms, her fingers following his bulging veins. She tried not to remember that those prominent veins were a side effect of the enhancements. He ran on a greater volume of blood. Her lips twisted as she tried to hold back a smile as her brain dwelt on that train of thought. _An evolutionary advancement indeed._

"What?" Aaron grunted.

"Nothing," Marta assured him in a raspy voice. She was not stifling the smile successfully. "I'm just very happy."

It wasn't a lie.

"Hrmph," he huffed, letting her know he didn't believe her, but decided to let it go. "Not quite yet you're not."

Her eyes widened and she blushed at his implication-and at her anticipation, if she was honest with herself. A cocky smirk curled Aaron's lips before he lowered them to hers. He continued to kiss her as his hand moved lower, his knuckle brushed the length of her collarbone. His mouth made its way down her neck. His right hand brought the knuckle lower, to the swell of her breast where it met the tight bud of her nipple. His knuckles skimmed over the nipple, teasing and stimulating her.

His lips found the point in her neck where her blood throbbed. He sucked the skin into his mouth and bit down gently. At the same time, he pinched her nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger. Marta moaned and her back arched, her chest lifting off the mattress. He cupped her breast and squeezed in response. His thumb flicked back and forth over her nipple rapidly until a sound close to a whimper begged relief, drawing his lips. Aaron's tongue circled the taut nub licking it wet. He blew on the bruised nipple, soothing it with the chill of rushing air.

His hand released her breast and felt its way down her ribs and over her navel. His head moved from her neck to her left breast, sucking its nipple vigorously as his hand reached between Marta's thighs. Her right hand was holding Aaron's face to her breast, her fingers woven tightly in his hair. Her left hand gripped the sheet in a knot as she drew her left knee up his arm, opening herself to welcome his touch.

Aaron's right hand slid between her legs, its middle finger grazing her clitoris. Marta gasped and her legs trembled as his finger parted her labia. Her knee fell to the side, spreading herself wide for him, and his fingers met the wet heat of her core.

Aaron felt every muscle in his body ripple. He lifted his head from her breast as a wracking groan rumbled from his chest. He slipped two fingers in and marveled at the velvet smoothness. "F**k, Marta, you feel _so_ good."

He swirled his fingers around deep inside of her then pulled them out to spread the slickness over and around her clitoris. He circled the sensitive nub, increasing pressure with each revolution. Marta's hips were rolling inward and her breathing became more and more shallow. Aaron tore his gaze from watching his fingers dip into her again. The sight of his hand between her thighs, buried inside her, was driving him mad.

Seeing her breasts rise and fall as her chest heaved didn't help his aching cock, either, so he rose higher up her body and fixed his gaze on Marta's face as he curved his fingers and moved them in and out of her repeatedly. He kept at it until her unfocused expression told him she was getting close.

He wore a crooked smile as he couldn't help but think, _I finally have the good doctor squirming. He would have her begging for him, under the power of just one of his hands._ He added another finger and pumped into her rapidly. _She would cry out his name as she succumbed to the pleasure only he could give her so completely. Five. Ha; he would never be nameless again._ She would whisper his name in reverence after he had his reign of her.

She threw back her head and moaned, her body writhing. He felt her slowly tighten around his fingers. "Let go, Marta," he demanded, his voice gruff and rumbling. "Let me have you like this."

He bent his thumb so its knuckle would hit her clit every time he thrust into her. Her hips lifted and his fingers plunged in and out of her with frantic speed, the wet slapping sound of his hand smacking against her heat twisted his gut. He felt pre-cum leak from the tip of his cock. He wasn't going to last much longer himself.

A long, low, primal sound of ecstasy escaped Marta's lips and Aaron watched her eyelids flutter shut, the corners scrunched tight. He felt her body spasm and clench around his fingers. After a few moments of mindless oblivion, Marta's eyes snapped open and she grabbed his wrist to still him. She held his hand against her to keep him deep inside. He slowed the tempo but continued to thrust into her, prolonging her pleasure, by drawing out as many after-shocks as possible.

She blinked a few times in wide-eyed enthrallment, riding out her climax. Then she turned her head towards Aaron and looked at him with glistening green eyes full of wonder. "Aaron...", she murmured his name softly with rapture, her hands reaching to bring his face close.

He couldn't keep a victorious smile from his mouth as he kissed her. He pulled his hand from between her legs and stroked her breasts with his wet fingers until they were nearly dry. Then his hand rose to the base of her skull and tangled it in her hair, tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss. Eventually, his head made its way lower, his tongue trailing down to her chest to lap at her breasts.

"Mmm...," his voice reverberated against her body as he licked the taste of her and gently suckled each of her nipples. He moved over her, his knee hooking under hers as he shifted his weight. He brought his other knee between her legs to nudge her thighs further apart. His head rose and his lips claimed hers again.

Aaron pulled back from the kiss and looked down at Marta with an adoring smile. "Say it again," he pleaded, giving her another quick kiss.

She hesitated a moment as she thought of what he needed her to answer, then remembered the last thing she had spoken was his name. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed deep into his big, pale blue, desperate eyes.

"Aaron," she said deliberately with a languid smile. She hooked her legs around both of his and pulled his mouth down to hers. She slid her legs higher up his body, her knees coming to either side of his hips.

"_Aaron_," she said again, with emphasis. Her lips opened his mouth and her tongue slipped in to meet his. She rolled her pelvis, pressing her slick heat firmly against his arousal. His entire body shuddered.

She moved against him again, sliding herself up and down the underside of his erection. Her labia parted around his throbbing staff, coating and coaxing it. "Aaron," her voice wavered, the name a plea.

"F**k," he grunted and crushed his penis between them, grinding it against her wet core. His voice was rough gravel. "I've needed this for years."

"You," he clarified, huffing the word. "All these years, I needed you."

With a small movement, the smooth tip of his arousal rested at her entrance. Marta took in a rush of air and arched against him unconsciously, her desire fully rekindled.

"I love you," Aaron whispered, his throat thick with emotion, lust and longing. He kissed her, before she could respond, then hung his head against her shoulder, unable to concentrate on anything but the sensation as he pushed himself into her.

He uttered a primal, gasping moan as her slick velvet canal enveloped him. He paused to catch his breath. Marta wiped his brow of the beads of sweat that had formed there. She held on as his body began to rock in a slow, building cadence. Her hips lifted to receive him more fully and he slid into her deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Aaron's arm slid under Marta to brace one shoulder with his elbow, and the other in the firm grip of his right hand. His left hand clamped onto her hip, his fingers digging into her flesh as he penetrated her with growing speed and force.

Marta hadn't thought she could climax again so soon after her last amazing orgasm, but she felt another building as her body jostled wildly under the weight of Aaron's thrusts. The rapid friction was setting her ablaze as he hit just the right spot inside her repeatedly. She could feel her breasts bounce and her nipples brush his chest hair every time his body collided with hers rhythmically. The vibrations shot electrifying currents straight to her core.

Aaron felt Marta's vaginal walls clench around his cock like a suction. His head lifted as a long, wracking groan escaped from deep within him. It felt like it had originated directly from his groin. He tried to hold out until Marta came, but he lost control when he heard her moan his name in ecstasy. He surrendered to his base lust.

His spine bent, curling over her body as he gripped her tight and pounded himself into her, grunting hard with each hammering drive. His movement became frantic and kinetic, then every muscle in his body seized and he erupted with a loud, stuttering groan.

Aaron's lean, taut form rippled as the waves hit. Erotic thrill rushed through him and flowed physically in spurts, from him into her, and he felt Marta follow his climax. Her body quivered and contracted around him, triggering a final ejaculation and a string of expletives. He was magnificently depleted.

It took great effort, but he managed to continue rocking his pelvis, to extend her orgasm, as he gradually deflated inside her. Utterly spent, Aaron blew out a haggard breath then rested his forehead to hers as they both recovered. When Marta stilled and peered up at him, he gave her a crooked smile and kissed her tenderly.

Aaron rolled to the side, slipping out of her. Marta sighed contentedly and he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. He placed a kiss on the top of her head as she laid it on his shoulder.

"I meant it, you know," he said, stroking her hair with one hand and her arm with the other.

"Hmm...?" Marta murmured, still languishing happily in afterglow.

"When I said I loved you," he told her. "I do."

She lifted her head and saw his earnest expression with her green eyes wide.

"Don't say anything," he instructed. "I just wanted you to know in case things don't go off as planned tomorrow."

Aaron reached over for the glass of bottled water and drank half of it then tilted it towards Marta in offering.

"No," she shook her head declining. "I'm good."

He set it back on the nightstand and leaned down to pull the covers over them.

"Very, very good," she added with a laugh as she settled back against him, exhausted.

"Yes, you are," Aaron replied, gratefully satiated.

Marta groaned in response to his teasing and buried her face in his chest. Feeling tired and fulfilled, she nestled against him comfortably. She drifted into a peaceful, easy slumber. Aaron rested his hand lightly on her head, holding her to him. He silently wished to have her close and safe, always.

"Sleep tight doc," he whispered, marveling at the fact she was really here with him. He had wanted her for so long, even if only to acknowledge him as a man. After all that time, she finally saw and accepted him. She consented and was now his, completely and more fully than he ever dared to hope.

This night, it was his name on her lips and his arms she fell asleep in. Outcome could never take that away from him now. Even if he died tomorrow, it had all been worth it, for this moment. He had found home.


	18. Arise

**Chapter Eighteen: Arise**

A rustle of sheets and a motion at his side woke Aaron from a dead sleep. His core muscles contracted, ready to leap out of bed and dive for his gun. It took less than a moment to register his surroundings and realize it was Marta turning away from him in her sleep. Neither of them had moved for hours. He smiled to himself as he slowly pulled his arm from underneath her and rubbed feeling back into it before lying back down beside her.

It was before sunrise but the sky had begun to lighten, just enough that he could make out the curve of her shoulder blades and the line of her spine. He kept himself from reaching out to trace the shadows on Marta's back, not wanting to wake her. But he did want to wake her. And touch her. And make love to her. Again.

_Again. _

Aaron's serene smile widened to a shit-eating grin. He had finally relieved his carnal need for the doctor. _Well, maybe not relieved so much as achieved._ It was so much more than just physical desire, but he couldn't help feeling a victorious thrill of conquest long fought for.

_F**k his gentlemanly thought of letting her sleep. _Aaron reached over Marta and dragged her body to fit in tight against his. She startled slightly but continued to sleep. His half-erect penis swelled as her bottom came into contact with his hips. Aaron felt himself twitch and rise into the tight space between her legs, under her buttocks. His growing erection prodded the curve of her behind and the feel of it made Aaron take in a rush of air. Holding in the breath, he rested his forehead against the back of Marta's head. After a brief pause, he exhaled, causing strands of her hair to flutter and her hand rose to brush them off her cheek.

Aaron caught her hand in his, brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. Marta was still asleep but her breathing had become more shallow and he knew she was close to consciousness. He sucked the tip of her middle finger into his mouth, gripping her knuckle between his teeth, and swirled his tongue around it. Marta's hand twitched, pulling itself from his mouth, but her eyes remained closed.

Aaron chuckled, but the sound stuck in his throat as her hips shifted and his cock, now fully erect, wedged in tighter against her backside. He rested his head on her shoulder and let out a quiet moan he was unable to suppress.

Marta's lips parted slightly as she took a deeper breath, growing to wakefulness. Rising above her on his elbow, Aaron turned his face and kissed the bend of her jaw below her ear. He pulled her hand, still in his right, lower, down her body as he continued to place kisses down her jaw and back up to her ear. When he guided their joined hands between her legs and slid her middle finger, under his, through her folds, Marta's eyes fluttered open.

"_Aaron?_" her voice, thick with sleep, croaked. Then she gasped, fully awake, as he led her slick finger to circle her clitoris and she felt the tip of him probing her behind.

Taking his name as an invitation, Aaron leaned over her, bending his right knee to press hers away from her body on the mattress so he would have room to reach deeper between her legs. His left hand swept her hair off her neck as he hovered on his elbow and brought his nose to her nape. He nuzzled her there as he pushed their middle fingers into her. After a minute of swirling and swiping around within her, he drew their fingers out and brought them back to his mouth.

"Aaron," Marta repeated in a hushed, strained voice that betrayed her arousal as he sucked and hummed a ravenous sound from deep in his chest. She shivered at the feeling of his erection being thrust rhythmically at the seat of her bottom, sliding through her heat in increasing tempo. Her body arched, her buttocks pressing back against him, to better accommodate his movement.

Aaron could only reply with a stuttering moan as he reveled in the feel of his cock parting the moist lips of Marta's sweet..._shit._ He was losing it already.

He rapidly pumped her finger between his lips a few times before releasing it abruptly to grasp her waist, cursing as he did so. His arm wrapped around her to lift and hold her hips at a better angle. He was sweating and huffing labored breaths as he struggled to steady and position himself.

Marta reached between them and helped guide the head of his sex into her entrance. Grateful for the assistance in this particular orientation, especially under his current strain, Aaron eased himself in and they both shuddered in pleasure. He placed another kiss to the stretch of neck behind her earlobe and whispered his love for her before pulling back then pushing back in. He repeated the movement again and again, his eyes shut in concentration on both his stroke and the sensation.

Marta's arm lifted so her hand could reach behind and tangle itself in Aaron's hair over her right shoulder. He leaned down and kissed her shoulder in response. Her lids were heavy so she let her eyes fall shut and just enjoyed the thrust of his hips rocking her. It was only a minute before a long groan escaped Aaron and she felt his release as he quivered and bucked into her a few more times before finally collapsing behind her. She heard him murmur something into her neck as he draped his arm around her, but didn't quite catch it before sleep overtook her.

Aaron clutched Marta's back to his chest, buried his face in her hair and apologized for waking her, though he felt no remorse. She was asleep before he could admit his lack of regret. The thought of regret triggered brutal images and acts of violence he had executed himself, to flood his mind. The familiar crush of guilt weighed on him, but it felt much easier to bear as he gazed down at the woman in his arms. He would never say so to her, but the fact she shared the burden of responsibility in that guilt was a relief. It was probably twisted thinking, but he was glad it was a burden they shared.

_Together they would face the consequences, and together they could try to make things right. Neither of them was alone in this. If nothing else, they had each other. For now. _

Aaron's body curled around Marta and his hand cupped her breast, squeezing gently. As his thumb stroked the soft flesh and he drifted back to sleep, he thought, _This is enough. Right now, we have each other, and that's more than enough._


	19. Awake

**Chapter Nineteen: Awake**

Aaron woke again at sunrise. Since the enhancements, he didn't require the amount of sleep a person would normally need, and his slumber was shallow-always on alert. Marta, however, slept a full eight or nine hours and deeply. She had rolled onto her stomach, her head buried in the pillow, her face turned away from him. The brightening sunlight on her back made her skin glow golden and her rumpled hair shine. The sight took his breath away. Aaron lay gazing at her with a feeling he couldn't put to words. All he could think was how desperate he was to keep her safe. But he would be putting her in harm's way today.

He rolled to his back and rubbed his eyes as his mind began churning. He felt restless and needed to move. He always thought better when he was active. He glanced over at Marta longingly. This time, though, he wouldn't wake her to fulfill his selfish desires. Aaron kicked off the covers and headed for the bathroom, deciding he could put in a few laps at the pool.

Before he left the room, Aaron walked to Marta's side of the bed and knelt to her eye level. He brushed her hair from her face and smiled when she didn't even flinch. _Had he worn her out? _He grinned devilishly at the thought. He rose after placing a kiss to her cheekbone and a gun on the nightstand next to her. Folding another gun in his towel, he silently left the room for the hotel pool.

Bright sunshine poured through the windows onto Marta's face. She turned her head away from it with a contented noise and stretched her body lazily. She sat up abruptly when she noticed she was alone in the bed. The shower in the bathroom was running so she flopped back on the bed and reveled in the feel of the warm sun. Her thoughts drifted to her night with Aaron and she smiled to herself, remembering. Her happiness dimmed as she remembered their plans for the day.

The bathroom door opened and Aaron stepped through, a shy smile on his face as his pale blue eyes locked with hers. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she replied, appraising him as he stood in his towel, his muscles rippling from his exertion swimming. "This is a welcome, familiar sight."

"I remember it being something more like this," he said, dropping his towel with a crooked smile.

Marta's eyes widened at the view and flushed, surprised by him again. She wondered if she would ever get used to his boldness.

Aaron stalked toward her with intent and crawled in over her when he reached the bed. "Or more like this," he suggested, hovering face to face above her, leaning in and pressing his swelling member against her pelvic bone with a wicked smirk.

"Aaron," Marta reprimanded, squirming from under him and turning away.

"What?," he questioned, grabbing to pin her as she flipped over and scrabbled up the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Ugh," she grimaced. "I'm a wreck, but you're fresh out of the shower. Stay away." Her hand reached for the glass container of water on her nightstand, wrenched open the cap and chugged it down.

"You're perfect," Aaron disagreed, kissing the small of her back left exposed by her flight.

"No, really. Aaron," she pleaded. "I'm a mess. Just let me freshen up first."

"Mmm," he mumbled, pulling the sheet just a few inches lower so he could trace the twin indentations at her tailbone with his tongue. "As long as I've been dying to join you in the shower, I think I can wait just a little longer for the privilege."

His right hand rose up the back of her leg to grip and squeeze her butt cheek through the sheet. "But what I can't wait for...," he trailed off from saying, as he nibbled at the flesh just above the sheet where the curve of her bottom began.

"Aaron...," Marta breathed, sounding defeated, flustered, turned-on and irritated all at the same time. Her face turned around to give him a heated glare. She looked the wreck she claimed to be with the wavy curls of her mussed hair in disarray and the dark makeup smudged about in rings around her flashing green eyes.

Looking up at her when she uttered his name, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Errrgh!," she grunted, swiping at him to brush him off. "I told you; now get off."

Aaron laughed and climbed a little farther up her body. "No; you're adorable."

Marta buried her head in the pillow and groaned dispassionately. The sound challenged Aaron to change the tone of her moans so he snaked his arm under and around her hips, hauling her back down the bed between his legs as he balanced on slightly bent knees. He lifted and tilted her pelvis just enough to slowly press his erection into her moist sheath. Marta sighed and relaxed into the position, even arching her back to ease his entry.

"That's it," Aaron encouraged. He lowered himself onto her, nearly lying atop the full length of her. His left hand made its way to into her hair, gathering it into his fist, and pulled her head back gently till her ear reached his lips. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world," he whispered.

"And you're a beautiful liar," she retorted, her voice catching in her throat as he nuzzled low behind her ear, recalling their earlier encounter. He kissed her there then took her earlobe between his teeth, his tongue followed each kiss. He made his way down to her shoulder and his left hand moved to gently lift her chin, deepening the concave curve of Marta's spine.

Aaron pushed himself as deep into her as he could manage, rolling his hips in an exaggerated fashion. He used his entire body to thrust forward in an impossibly slow cadence. His hand slipped from her chin to her throat. He could feel her arterial vein throb with a rapid heartbeat that increased with every long, rhythmic curl of his pelvis as he ground it into her backside again and again.

In time, Aaron felt every muscle straining from his jaw to his toes. It took his whole body to keep from crushing her while maintaining momentum. A sheen of sweat formed on his skin. Eventually, the penetration became easier as Marta's body responded in earnest, their bodies slick between them. Aaron's patience and persistence was rewarded when a haggard moan finally tore from her chest and Marta trembled beneath him. Her vaginal walls clenched around his throbbing penis and he begged, panting, "Come on, doc. Come with me."

He stretched forward and felt his testicles seize. "Shit!" he cursed, but Marta climaxed immediately following his outburst with an expletive of her own.

Aaron groaned in relief and release. They rode out their orgasms together, grasping at each other as they shook in ecstasy. The rush of blood slowed and they came back to themselves as they stilled.

Aaron felt boneless, draped over Marta, his head next to hers as he lay heavily on top of her. He pressed his lips to her temple. "I love you, Marta."

"So you say, but you're crushing me," she gasped, trying to push herself up under his dead weight. "I can't breathe!"

He laughed and rolled them over. He fell out of her as she came to rest on top of him, her back against his front. Aaron made a displeased sound. "Damn it."

Marta smiled serenely, feeling blissful and cherished. Though lying over him left her nakedness exposed, she was safe in his arms and she didn't move to cover herself. Instead, she rested back against him, tilting her head to touch his.

He embraced her and held her tight, not ready to let her go. He hadn't wanted to slip from inside her yet. He contented himself by allowing his hands to roam her body languidly, exploring the warm skin with gentle strokes and squeezes.

As Marta relaxed under his touch, she felt his seed trickle from her womb. Her heart plummeted and she froze, silently screaming at herself for not using the protection she had procured.

"Aaron!," she fearfully exclaimed, "I bought condoms but forgot to have you use them. They're in the nightstand; how could we forget? I'm back on the pill but I only started yesterday."

"It's all right," he replied soothingly but followed his comment with a bitter laugh.

Marta turned to face him, not understanding his reaction. A bitter expression matched his bitter laugh. She looked at him questioningly. "Why aren't you worried?"

Aaron eased her down to her side, turning toward her as he rose slightly to rest his head on this hand. He looked melancholy. "We don't have anything to worry about. There is no risk sleeping together without protection."

"What do you mean? I can't take the risk of getting pregnant while we're on the run."

"I can't get you pregnant," he stated plainly adding, "Even if I wanted to."

Marta silently pondered his response before replying, "Oh. But there was nothing in your chart about being infertile."

Aaron's expression darkened. "I was neutered."

Her eyes widened and she registered his tone but corrected him, "You're certainly not _neutered_."

He sat up abruptly in anger. "That's exactly what they did."

She was bewildered. "Who's they?"

Aaron looked back at her dumbfounded. "You can't be serious."

Marta could have smacked herself. "Outcome."

He grunted a disgusted affirmation.

"But there was nothing in your chart about a vasectomy, or infertility, or anything like that," she wondered. "And I was on the medical panel as well as the virology research in the program."

"It was done immediately after I joined," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Before I started taking the blue pills, doc. So maybe I agreed to it when I signed myself over. Couldn't understand what I was agreeing to, right?"

He shrugged but was obviously upset. Marta understood he felt violated. _Neutered._ That comment would've gone in his psychiatric evaluation.

"I'm sorry," she offered quietly.

She wouldn't admit to him that it was for the best. It made sense why Outcome couldn't allow their subjects to pass on genes that had been altered by the experiment. They had rendered him infertile before the medicinal or viral treatments. Otherwise, he might have healed from any surgery.

She glanced at Aaron and he was looking at her suspiciously. "I didn't know!" she defended.

"Maybe not, but you agree with what they did," he responded in a pained voice. It wasn't a question.

He moved to get out of bed. "Well, you don't have to worry. As their test rat, I was screened for everything under the sun a million times. I'm clean and I won't ever procreate."

Marta got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom as Aaron angrily pulled out his clothes from the suitcase. She turned around to address him before closing the door.

"I am sorry for everything that happened to you, and for my part in the program. I will prove that to you. I'll pay for my culpability or make things right-whatever you need me to do."

She turned the lock and he sighed. He knew it wasn't her he held responsible. She was ready to help him bring down Rick Byer and his gang, despite the danger. He had been drawn to the doctor even as she poked and prodded him for Outcome. She had just brought up a sore subject for him.

It wasn't that he longed to be a father, necessarily. He hadn't really thought of it; other than the general longing for family. What bothered him was that the _choice _to live a normal, happy life with wife and kids had been taken from him. He was less than human to them.

He was only a weapon to be tossed aside after the ammo ran out.

A few minutes went by, then the shower in the bathroom turned on and the lock to the door was flipped before he heard the shower door open and close. The sound of it, and what it represented to him, nearly made him cry.

_What a p***y._ He shook his head at himself, his mood lifting, and went to join Marta in the shower. _Finally._


	20. A Manila Morning

**Chapter Twenty: Manila Morning**

Aaron felt a peculiar feeling in his gut as he opened the sliding glass door to the shower and stepped in. It intensified as his eyes fell upon Marta standing under the stream of water. She faced away from him, the water flowing over her head, cascading through her hair. His gaze followed the rivulets of water making their way down her body, over her beautifully bare bottom and down the back of her legs. Marta shifted to set down a bar of soap and scrubbed her face, taking extra care to wash the remaining make-up from her eyes.

Mesmerized by the sight of her, it took Aaron a few minutes before he could speak.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

Marta sighed and turned to face him with sad green eyes.

"_I'm_ sorry, Aaron," she said, taking a step closer to him. He met her advance and wrapped his arms around her.

She continued, "For everything you've been through and for my part in what's been done to you. You're a good man, Aaron Cross. You don't deserve any pain my work has caused you."

"Kenneth may have been a good man," Aaron shook his head, his face a dark, haunted mask. "I'm not. But, you didn't do that to me. I don't blame you or hold you personally responsible. I didn't mean for it to seem like I did, or to hold any involvement over your head. I'm actually grateful the program brought me to you. But, it has to be stopped. The government making thoughtless killing machines out of its soldiers-taking all humanity out of them-can't be allowed to continue. I have to end it."

"I'll help you," Marta promised. "It may not be enough, but whatever I can do, I will."

Neither voiced that today they would fight a determining battle in that war, though both were well aware of that reality. Instead, they stood in silence just holding each other for a while until Aaron placed a kiss on her head and spoke in a brighter tone to ease the ominous mood.

"I didn't mean to kill this morning's afterglow with my baggage. Enough of Outcome ruining our happiness."

"I'll second that," Marta replied, looking up at him with a plaintive smile. Aaron leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her lips, after which her smile brightened.

"It would take a lot worse to kill _that_ afterglow," she laughed.

Aaron's big, piercing blue eyes shined and he kissed her again, lingering this time with building passion. When they stopped to take a breath, Marta stepped away to reach for the shampoo, anxious to get the necessary business of the shower accomplished first.

Aaron watched as her arms lifted to wash her hair, her breasts exposed to him without shyness or reservation. He relished the new intimacy between them and desired even more.

"Let me," he said, stepping forward to bring his hands to the suds at her scalp. Marta dropped her hands and let Aaron take over, his fingers massaging the substance through her wet hair. He took his time, enjoying the sweet smell of the shampoo and the feel of her locks flowing through his fingers.

When the foam became thick, Marta tipped her head back to rinse it out, closing her eyes as the water flowed over her. Task completed, she brushed the water from her face and was about to open her eyes when she felt Aaron take her head in his hands. His thumbs traced the lines of her brows, cheekbones, jaw and lips. He brought his own lips to hers, his fingers in her hair again, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her wet, naked skin to his.

Aaron's hands were suddenly slithering everywhere over her body and he turned her so they were both under the shower stream. Marta was soft and supple in his hands, her skin slippery and warm. He felt his own heat rise, along with his manhood, as it swelled between them. He took a deep breath to steady himself-he wanted to take this slow. He moved them again so that only he was under the water and grabbed the bar of soap. He pulled away to lather it up and smiled mischievously.

"Let me," he said a second time and drew close. He spread the lather under her chin, down her neck and over her shoulders. He set the soap down and rinsed his hands, then slowly wiped the cleansing film from her skin. His mouth followed his hands, his tongue trailing and tasting her flesh. He grasped the bar of soap again and repeated the action, this time down her arms. He entwined their fingers and brought her hands to his mouth. He kissed, licked, or sucked each of her fingertips while he walked her back a step to the tiled wall at the end of the shower. He lifted her hands above her head and pressed them against the tiles with a squeeze.

Martha took the hint and kept her hands there as his drew suds down the underside of her arms and over her ribs. Aaron paused to lather up again and set the soap to the side. He spread the bubbles over her armpits and, embarrassed, Marta immediately tried to cut him off.

He only chuckled a "Nuh-uh," in reprimand and returned her wrists to their place, above her head. He held them firmly in one hand as his other continued rubbing her clean. He stuck his face into the flow and filled his mouth. He turned and squirted the water into her armpits, then laughed so hard he nearly lost his footing when she squealed and squirmed.

Marta flushed an angry red and tried to pull away from him, but was laughing, too. It dawned on Aaron that she was ticklish. _She was in for it now. _

He braced her more firmly against the wall and stuck his tongue right into the middle of her left armpit. Marta gasped and twitched violently. She screeched, but the sound stuck in her throat as she struggled and fought to escape the torture. Aaron couldn't remember anything funnier and barely avoided a wild kick when bent in laughter. He retaliated by wriggling the tip of his tongue into her right armpit.

Marta finally gasped enough air to scream but it was broken up with quaking laughter, "Stop it! Stop it! Please," she begged, "Aaron, stop!".

He relented at her pleading but continued to laugh as she bucked against him to shove his head from her body. She tried to pull her arms down but he continued to hold her in place.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, mirth lacing his voice as his laughter died down. "I'm sorry," he repeated more seriously, when he could, and attempted to kiss her.

She turned her head in spite, to avoid him, before swiveling it back to challenge him.

"No, you're not," she accused, seeing the smirk that played about his lips. She narrowed her flashing green eyes at him.

Shamefully bemused, Aaron replied, "Well, I apologize for not being sorry."

Her indignation quickly subsided as she recovered. She landed a somewhat playful kick and finally chuckled with him but was still catching her breath. Aaron didn't stop his eyes from dropping to her heaving chest. Any remaining amusement escaped him.

"You're right; I'm definitely not sorry."

With that, the teasing mood swiftly changed to a heated one. Marta felt her nipples stiffen under his intense gaze. Aaron released his hold on her wrists and her arms fell to her sides. He reached around her but his hungry blue eyes never lost their focus. He took up the soap, again working up a lather in his hands before setting it down. His fingers first traced her collarbones then splayed over her chest as his hands lowered over her breasts.

Marta's back bowed in a gradual arch as Aaron groped with eager hands. He cupped and kneaded her breasts then trailed his hands down her torso, spreading bubbles across her abdomen. He filled his palm with water and poured it out over her chest, watching the suds flow down her body. He lowered his head so his mouth could follow the path. His lips grazed every inch of skin, across her collarbones and from one side of her ribcage to the other, licking and kissing intermittently. He paused at each of her breasts to flick his tongue over her nipples zealously.

Marta's hands were in his hair, holding his head to her breasts as he worked them over in turn. Delicious pressure was building between her legs so she told him, "You can drop the pretense and just f**k me."

Aaron stopped and looked up at her, scandalized. "First of all," he lectured, grabbing the soap and showing it to her with a crooked smile, "You should not swear when I have a bar of soap in my hands."

She laughed and he rubbed the bar between his hands as he continued, "And second, this is not a pretense. Who knows when we'll have another chance to bathe like this. You'll regret not taking full advantage of this shower if we're wallowing in filth a week from now."

Marta groaned. "Stop. I'm not ready for reality yet."

"Neither am I," Aaron confessed, and set his soapy hands on her hips and squeezed. "But third-don't interrupt me."

He locked his eyes on hers and lowered himself to kneel before her. Marta felt her heart race. His hands traveled over the curve of her hips and down the outside of her legs. He let her catch her balance as he lifted her right foot and placed it on his knee. He lathered up again and massaged her foot and each of her toes thoroughly with the suds.

Marta's eyes closed, appreciating the strength of his knuckles, digging into the muscles of her foot, loosening them. It felt wonderful. She sighed contentedly when he lifted her foot to the shower's stream and the water washed away the soap. Aaron moved to set her foot down and start on the next but, on impulse, brought it to his mouth. Marta's eyes popped open in surprise and found his blue eyes staring back at her boldly as he sucked on her toes. She peered down at him with wide green eyes, her pupils blown.

Aaron's erection twitched and throbbed in reaction to her arousal, but he fought back his lust to carry on. He pulled her toes from his mouth, nibbling them before setting her foot down and taking up the other. He soaped up and massaged her other foot and Marta's breathing evened out. After rinsing her left, he simply kissed her toes and put the foot back on his knee as he lathered up his hands once more.

He held her ankle in one hand and ran the other hand up the inside of her leg, his thumb at the front and his fingers at the back so that when he reached the top of her inner thigh his hand stopped just short of her molten core. He longed to plunge his fingers into the heat, but moved his hand to the front of her leg and raked it down over her knee and shin. He repeated the action with her other leg.

"Turn around," he directed, his voice thick.

He could see Marta visibly swallow but she obeyed and turned to face the wall.

_God, he loved her ass_. He couldn't keep his eyes from it, as he lathered up his hands and brought them to her heels. His thumbs caressed the inside and his fingers grasped the outside of her legs as he pushed them up over the back of her calves, knees and hamstrings. When his hands reached the top, his thumbs slid into the crevice of her buttocks. He felt a shiver run the length of her body. It was all he could do not to spread her wide and bury his face in her ass.

_Not yet. _He allowed himself a squeeze before proceeding up over the fleshy cheeks to the small of her back. Grabbing the soap he stood up, came close and embraced her from behind. He whispered that he loved her and Marta leaned back into him and folded her arms over his.

They stood together a minute, enjoying the feel of their wet bodies entwined. Then Aaron stepped away to brush aside her hair and brought the bar of soap around to coat her back. He used the slippery film to rub circles into the muscles of her shoulders and worked his way down her spine and over her entire back. He focused on her neck and the base of her skull until her head lolled to the side.

He kissed her exposed neck before leaning back to grab the bottle of conditioner. He squirted some into his hand and put the little bottle back on the self. He gathered up her dripping hair and massaged his fingers into her scalp until he could feel all the strands were well-coated and soft. He pulled Marta into the water that was now running tepid. Fortunately, the Manilan heat had begun to seep into the day and the water felt fine.

When her hair was rinsed, Marta wiped the water from her face and found Aaron staring down at her with a languid smile. She returned it and asked, "So, are you done with me, then? Should we get out?"

"Not a chance," he responded, pulling her body in tight against his. "I'm just getting started."

He crushed his lips to hers and shuffled her around to press her against the wall as he fumbled for the soap. He hastily lathered up his right hand and dropped the soap to the ground. Without preamble, he brought his hand between Marta's legs and rubbed vigorously. She gasped at the sudden touch and he took advantage of her parted lips, thrusting his tongue in to twist with hers.

Aaron let his restraint go and he was nearly shaking with erotic energy. Marta felt frightened for the briefest of moments, sensing his latent power, before thinking, _this is Aaron. Five, of Outcome, yes; but Five was Aaron Cross-her Aaron. And her Kenneth. _

She figured she must have froze without realizing, because he pulled back to look her with his intense, earnest blue eyes. His voice deep and thick, "I love you."

Marta intended to respond in kind, but Aaron cut off any response when he suddenly pressed the heel of his palm firmly against her clitoris and slid his fingers through her moist folds. Her body quivered and a wracking moan escaped her lips. She uttered his name-it sounded like a plea-before he covered her mouth with his. A guttural sound of approval hummed deep in his chest and his fingers curled up into her sex.

Aaron dropped his shoulder for a better angle and slipped two fingers deep inside her. "Oh, f**k," he swore, when he felt how slick she was.

Marta would've chided him with the bar of soap for cussing, but doubted she could manage full sentences. She laughed at the thought, but it morphed into a full-throated groan of pleasure as Aaron rocked his palm in a rapid rhythm against her clit.

Her vaginal walls clenched around his fingers and he grunted, "That's it...Yeah, come on..._Come for me, Marta." _

His hand rocked her body with purpose, bringing her to a quick climax, as he encouraged, _"_There... _Oh_; that's it. There she is."

Gone weak in knees, she clutched at his shoulders as she shook and sputtered through the orgasm.

Aaron pulled his fingers from her to feel around for the soap. He retrieved it and stood up.

He watched her face with satisfaction as Marta came back to herself, while he rubbed the bar. She noticed the foam growing in his hands.

When sufficiently recovered enough to find her voice, she said, "You take your task far too seriously."

He grinned at her and drew close, bumping his nose against hers playfully. He leaned in and flicked his tongue over her lips. She parted them for him, but he nibbled and nipped for a minute before delving into her mouth again. Aaron maneuvered his knee between her thighs, nudging them farther apart.

His raging hard-on bumped against her pelvis and he sucked in a quick breath. He felt Marta move to reach for it, but he caught her hand before she could touch him. She looked up to him with an arched brow. He shook his head, choked out a low chuckle, and placed his forehead to hers.

Hands still lathered up, Aaron snaked them behind Marta; one grasping low on her left buttock, the other slipping into the cleft of her rear. She shivered and rested her head to the crook of his neck, her breathing heavy at his clavicle. Encouraged, he lifted her with the one hand while sliding the other hand deep into the seam of her rear.

His heart thumped wildly as his middle finger made its way slowly, down over her tightly puckered anus and over her smooth perineum, then between and through her labia and back again. The touch left a soapy film on her skin.

Aaron crouched lower and repeated the action with a little more pressure and a little more coverage, his ring finger joining his middle in spreading the suds from above her anus to just past her vagina, which was as far as he could reach in his current position.

"You feel so, _so_ good..._everywhere_," he told her, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

Marta's fingers curled in his sparse patch of chest hair, unconsciously tugging when his fingers moved back up to her asshole and the tip of his middle finger paused on the rippled texture of the tight little hole.

"Is this okay?" he croaked, his throat tight.

Her head moved in a trembling nod that traveled the length of her body. The quake seemed to extend to his own body and shoot straight to his groin. He was dripping pre-cum.

Another impulse hit, and his right hand left her momentarily to swipe up some of his seed and bring it to her ass. He smeared it over her anus. He swallowed hard to breathe. Then his middle finger swirled around and around the puckered entrance-an intensely erotic massage. He shook the tip of his finger against the tight hole, sending vibrations to both stimulate and relax her.

"I'm going to push into you," Aaron breathed haggardly. "Just a little. I need to feel the inside of your beautiful, sweet, perfect ass. Okay?"

"Yes," Marta nodded again, with a whisper. "Oh, _yes_."

_Holy f**k, I love this woman,_ Aaron growled in thought. He placed a quick kiss to her temple then wriggled his finger against, and gently into, her anus.

Marta moaned and tilted her hips backwards to better accommodate his probing finger. She scraped her nails over his nipples and was gratified to hear a long, ragged groan tear from his chest. She felt the stretching ring of muscle clench as his knuckle pressed through.

Aaron groaned in pleasure as he swirled his finger inside her ass to ease the insertion. He was thrilled to enjoy this deeply secret feel of her most private physical intimacies.

"Marta," he spoke, to draw her attention, wanting to see her. She lifted her head and looked up at him, her face flushed. He gave her an adoring, excited smile and kissed her fiercely.

Marta was filled with heavenly-_No, make that _devilishly_ glorious_-sensation at all the stimulation he was plying her with: He had a wiggling finger half-way up her ass, others were sliding into her sex, her breasts, with their straining nipples, were crushed to his chest, his tongue plundered her mouth and his cock prodded and pulsed at her crotch.

She never felt more electrified.

"Do you trust me?" Aaron, short of breath, broke the kiss to ask.

"With my life," she immediately responded, though equally breathless. She already trusted him with her life, and he had preserved it many times. But she figured that wasn't what he was questioning right now. So she added, "And my body."

The words affected him deeply. His skin flushed, his expression stilled, and his eyes bore into hers with a look of something overwhelming-like true love wrapped in wonder, filled with ecstasy and passion, topped with devotion and promise.

Aaron couldn't believe this woman he had coveted for years-who would never give him the time of day-was now so completely his. He felt dumbstruck and honored. Then very, very turned on.

_If I could be any more excited_. He slowly pulled his fingers from her and moved his hands to her hips. He placed a soft, sweet kiss on her lips then gently guided her to face away from him.

A rush of heat conflicted with the goosebumps that rose on Marta's skin as he turned her around. She allowed Aaron to pull her hips back towards him; let her body bend forward. She placed her hands on the cool tiles in front of her. His fell to the plump curves of her bottom. His thumbs stroked the fleshy cheeks outward, opening her ass to him.

Blood rushed in her ears, muffling sound, and disorienting her for a moment. She wasn't sure if it was embarrassment, shyness, shame, apprehension, anticipation, lust, or a combination of all those feelings that overtook her. She was no prude, but, for her, anal sex was something that happened a lot later in a very committed relationship. She reminded herself that theirs _was_ a very committed relationship-more serious than anything she had shared before.

She did trust him completely with her body, her life, and her heart. And her ass. So she gulped a steadying breath, closed her eyes, tried to relax, and braced herself for his intrusion.

It was not what she was expecting. At all.

His tongue was what Aaron pressed to her anus.

Her eyes popped open at the touch and she was sure she audibly gasped. Her jaw hung open in shock as she felt the hot, wet muscle lick over her tight, puckered hole.

Aaron licked long and hard; he licked quick and light. He licked furiously; he licked slow. He swirled his tongue over the tiny ridges one way and then the other, humming resonate sounds of relish and delight.

The shock eased and Marta felt light-headed-the really, really good kind of delicious dizziness. Her eyes fluttered shut at the new, exciting, thrilling sensation overtaking her. The feel of his face in her ass, while his lips and teeth and tongue explored her from behind, was a deliriously glorious insanity.

As the ability to think finally came back to her, Marta's first thought was an answer she wondered at earlier. _No; I'm never going to get used to his boldness._ Aaron continually stunned her with all he was and all he gave.

"Aaron...," she murmured, though she hadn't any idea what she meant to say.

"Hhuuhhhnn?" his ragged voice moaned, the response distorted as his tongue continued to sweep up her crevice.

At her lack of reply, Aaron gave the little anal pucker one last, wet, probing kiss. Then he nipped at each of her butt-cheeks before kissing them, too. He squeezed her bottom and smacked it playfully before relinquishing his hold.

He finally sat back to look up at her, feeling gloriously triumphant and completely unapologetic about it.

She twisted around moving to face him, and ran her fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. Her eyes were shining as she gazed down at him, smiling blissfully.

"Come here," he directed, his arms reaching around to grasp the back her legs. He dragged her forward as his hands goaded her thighs apart. He crouched low and settled her over his mouth, his face nuzzling in, between her legs.

"_Oh_, Aaron...you can't be serious." Marta marveled.

"As a heart-attack," he replied, with a hazy smile, then proved it by pressing his lips to her mound and kissing her as he would the lips of her mouth.

At first his kiss was slow and tender, then it grew heated and hungry, moving against her more firmly. His lips parted to take a breath then closed over the fold he caught between his teeth. His tongue brushed the length of it, then let it pop out after a quick suck.

He repeated the action with the other fold then slid his tongue in past her labia, parting those lips with his own. He slipped his tongue straight into her sweet sheath, anxious to get a proper taste of her.

He moaned a growling "Mmmmmm..." as he plunged in and out of her, his nose bumping her bundle of nerves. His tongue would stop thrusting to take a turn at licking up and down, from perineum to clitoris, swirling around the nub a few revolutions, before sweeping back for another go at her quim.

Marta's hands were in his hair, holding onto the head bobbing between her legs.

Aaron was not shy about making coarse, sloppy noises while he devoured her. The eagerness of his mouth and the sounds reverberating from it were making her legs melt. Her hands shot out to the sides of the shower to steady herself as she felt herself falter.

"You're okay; I've got you," Aaron pulled back to assure her, then slid her thighs over his shoulders to take the bulk of her weight and fit her firmly against his face. He wrapped his arms up and over her hips to hold her securely. His hands reached the front of her pelvis to spread and hold open her folds so he could cover her clit with his mouth. He suckled the tiny bud until the suction broke, when a long, quivering moan escaped the woman above him, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the fevered, wanton sound.

Marta felt his tongue circle her aching nub again before giving it one last suck. He kissed the swollen clitoris hard, then began to flick his tongue furiously over it. She was flying fast towards an explosive climax.

"_Aaron.._.," she gasped, in a trembling voice, as she felt her inner muscles tighten and strain.

He closed his mouth over her and shook his head side-to-side fast, dragging his flattened tongue back and forth rapidly until she let loose a whining, gasping cry. He quickly shifted to thrust his tongue back into her slick, spasming canal.

Her knees gave out and her body dropped. Aaron's biceps bulged as his arms held her aloft. He kept her in place, loving the feel of her smooth velvet tunnel clenching sporadically around his tongue.

Marta was sure she had blacked out and achieved nirvana until Aaron's stroking tongue brought her back to their own little heaven here in Manila. It took a few minutes before she could stand on her own, without his help propping her up.

After placing a kiss on each side of her inner thighs, he rested his chin on her public bone and peered up at her, looking far too pleased with himself.

His cocky smile disintegrated as she began to purposely slip slowly down his body. His arms grasped her about the legs to pause her descent when her breasts hovered before his face. He buried his head in her chest and her hands wound their fingers in his wet hair, clasping him to her.

As she held him tight, wrapped around him in embrace, Aaron suddenly felt deeply moved and emotional. Never had a woman ever held him like this. _Lovingly. _Kenneth was abandoned by his mother and longed for a feeling like this his whole life. _Loved. _

He mentally shook free of his thoughts, disassociating he and his former self, and swallowed the lump in his throat before he started crying like a p**sy.

_Besides,_ he thought, _his aching cock was beyond ready for hers._

Marta felt his arms squeeze her affectionately, then relax, so she leaned back enough for him to take her left nipple into his mouth. She was surprised his tongue was still functioning; until she recalled his physical enhancements.

_Oh, those glorious enhancements! _So much for feeling guilty for her work. She bit her lips to keep from smiling too widely at the thought.

When Aaron moved to her other breast, she sank lower, coming to rest her knees on the wet tiles along the outside of Aaron's thighs. His head reared back, releasing her right nipple suddenly, when his erection connected with her core. She almost laughed at the lustful agony that twisted his face. He blew out a haggard breath that was perilously close to a moan.

She took advantage of his state, sealing his lips in a kiss that he had to gasp around, when she maneuvered her hips till his smooth, leaking tip fit the hollow at her entrance. She bit his lip when he opened his mouth to gulp in air. Her tongue swiped over the bite then slipped in, to tangle with his.

Aaron was trying to return the kiss, but was forced to groan a string of expletives, instead, when she sunk down on his cock, taking him in to the hilt.

Marta sat on his lap, filled fully with him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Aaron's arms snaked around her waist, clutching her to him. He kissed her behind the ear, nuzzling in, before he bucked up against her, pushing himself in deep. His cock twitched violently as it hit a barrier inside her and he knew he wasn't going to last long.

"Ride me," he begged.

She happily complied; pulling herself up, then sinking back down on him, over and over again in a building tempo.

He held still, just reveling in the slippery slide of her, and in the feel of his dick pulsing within her liquid heat. Once Marta started rolling her hips and squeezing, then releasing, her thighs to bounce on him, he gave in.

Aaron fell back, his palms pushing off the tiles, to hold himself up off the ground. He ignored the cascade of water that was now hitting him in the face. The muscles of his arms flexed as he pistoned his hips, knocking hers roughly, again and again.

With his strength, there was no need for Marta to hold herself up; he could take the full weight of her. Doing so actually resulted in his seemingly reaching the depth of her womb with every thrust.

_There was no feeling like it._ She simply held on to his shoulders for balance and let him pound up into her, driving her towards yet another climax.

Any inhibitions left between them were long abandoned at this point. So Aaron grunted loudly, unabashed. _"Uh, uh, uh...ooohhhhh, shit!...uh, uh, uh...ohh, yeaahhhh...uh, uh-oh, shit!-uh, uh-f**k, yeah-oohhhhhh..." _

He stuttered another long, _"Uuuhhhhhhnnnnn!"_ as his body bowed, neck bulged, and his cum shot hard, and hot, and deep, within her.

Marta's body quivered and seized in response, her fluttering quim drinking his release with relish.

One more "_Uuuhhhhhnn..._" tore from Aaron's chest as another wracking moan shot through, and out, the length of him. He dropped to the ground, utterly exhausted, breathing out a "_Holy f**k,_" as he laid back to lie flat, the shower flow washing over him.

A moment later, when she was equally spent, Marta flopped forward onto him, with a gratified groan. Aaron draped an arm over her, but didn't move otherwise. They rested, the water pooling around them, until Marta finally rose up and lifted herself off him to stand.

Aaron sighed when his flaccid penis fell out of her, then sat up. She offered him a hand to pull him up, but he declined saying, "No, I'm good here," with a crooked smile, as he watched her from below, enjoying the unique view of her naked form. She shook her head at him and stepped around to adjust the nozzle so it wasn't hitting him directly and stood under it to wash herself clean all over again.

When she took a step and reached for what was left of the soap, Aaron chuckled. "You don't think I was thorough enough?"

"Oh, you were far _too_ thorough," she exclaimed with a pointed look. "You put me back at square one."

He turned towards her and held out his hand. "Here; let me."

"What?! Not a chance," she replied. "We'd never get out of here."

"Sounds good to me," he joked, standing. "Seriously, let me. I promise I'll behave."

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"Fine," she relented and handed him the bar of soap.

"Well, not _behave_, behave," he admitted, a smirk curling his lip, as suds grew in his hands. He leaned in for a quick kiss and she granted him one.

Then she remembered. "But don't you dare tickle me," she threatened.

He laughed. "All right, but no other restrictions, then."

Aaron cleansed her quickly, but thoroughly. He smiled sinfully, as he slipped in and scrubbed the full length and depth of her crevices. He dropped a peck on her lips as his hands worked over her, covering everywhere he had before, but, this time it was much more perfunctory.

He pulled her under the shower to rinse off. He wiped her down then held her close, still amazed that he shared such an intimate relationship with the doctor.

_He owned that ass, _he thought, crudely, then felt remorseful for thinking such a thing. It didn't keep him from grabbing said ass, to haul her in tight against him and lean his forehead to hers.

"I can die happy now," Marta laughed breathlessly. She puzzled at the look on Aaron's troubled face then reality came crashing down, bursting their blissful bubble.

She closed her eyes, grimacing, and sighed, "I suppose we need to get ready now."

Aaron nodded silently. He committed the sight of her standing naked in his arms, the water flowing over her skin beautifully and peacefully, to memory.

His prominent blue eyes were sorrowful when Marta's eyes met his. He was reluctant to budge.

"We'll beat them," she encouraged, grasping his hands in hers to pull him out of the shower with her. "We have a good plan. We get the program medication, we get to the U.S., and we find Jason Bourne."

The mission was clear and it was time. Aaron steeled himself and was the rebel agent Cross once more.


	21. Stateside

**Chapter 21: Stateside**

The group around the conference table quieted as Eric Byer rubbed his tired eyes in frustration. He prided himself on self-restraint, but even he was taxed to a near-breaking point with the failure to neutralize the Aaron Cross issue. Jason Bourne was still on the loose as well, and though Treadstone was not his problem, the maelstrom surrounding that dead albatross was threatening to drag the National Research Assay Group down with it.

Having to terminate the Outcome program was a huge blow to NRAG. The escape of Cross and Dr. Shearing was disastrous. It was imperative his team find them-the fate of the experimental LARX program hung in the balance, especially with its recent loss. CIA Director Ezra Kramer was already threatening to end their research contract for fear of exposure under the Senate and public scrutiny.

Suddenly, a disheveled Arthur Ingram bumbled into the room, pushing up his glasses excitedly. "We've got a viable lead. A couple just reported their boat missing off a tiny island just outside of our grid."

"Thank god!" exclaimed Zev Vendel, leaning back in his seat with relief.

"How far out of the search grid?" Dita asked.

"That's the thing; it's west of our estimates." Arthur wiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.

Dita glanced at Byer with her eyebrow raised. "Cross back-tracked?"

"Could be," Arthur responded. "But the CIA will intercept the fishing boat we know they boarded within the hour so we'll know which trail to follow shortly."

"Forget the fishing trawler," Byer interjected. "Concentrate our resources on the missing boat. That's him."

The group stood and filed out of the room, re-energized in light of the new information. Dita lingered until they were alone then asked, "Do you know what he's doing?"

"The only flaw with Outcome was the inability to medically repress emotional responses to the desired degree," he answered. "Aaron Cross was the agent most susceptible to an emotional reaction. It was in him I first detected the vulnerability."

Dita nodded her head silently in agreement, she knew this already, but let Byer vocalize his thoughts. She understood he needed to talk out his mental deductions. Her quiet intelligence and intuitive prompting partnered well with his sharp logic and clinical brilliance. Though Eric Byer was unquestionably the leading force of the team, Dita was his unacknowledged second. They had worked together a long time over the years; Byer recruiting her to each new appointment as he climbed the ranks. Together they were an ambitious combination of cold calculation. Despite their history, they were never close on a personal basis. Dita often wondered if her invaluable contribution even registered with him, but recognition didn't matter to her, as long as they achieved their objectives.

"Perhaps it was the low cognitive ability of the original subject," Eric continued, "that made Cross especially resistant to the adherence aspect of the enhancements. Whatever the reason, this agent is prone to emotional reaction and is, therefore, volatile and less predictable."

"But perhaps knowing that, we can evaluate his likely response given the specific circumstances," she countered.

Catching on to her line of reasoning, Byer replied, "And figure the logical emotional reaction that should be the agent's motivation, giving us a probable action to anticipate."

"We would be a step ahead of Cross and finally intercept him if we can ascertain his next move, based on his emotional state," Dita concluded.

_ "__Emotional state..." Byer repeated, thinking. He wondered aloud, "Fearful? Angry? Vengeful? Fight or flight? We should review his psych files."_

Dita smiled knowingly. "I don't think we need them."

He turned to her, curious.

"The woman," she stated, no need to elaborate.

Eric Byer's eyes took on a distant look, his mind racing ahead. "Marta Shearing, the doctor-of course."

He walked purposefully into Operations and addressed the group. "We need to get ahead of this. Find that missing boat and determine it's direction. Narrow your parameters to reports of a Caucasian couple. That should cut our lag time drastically."

"Cross and the doctor together?" Vendel questioned. "The agents act alone. You think Cross is using Marta Shearing for cover? I would've guessed she was shark shit by now."

Arthur spoke up. "Cross has a history of counter-minding his training. It makes sense he would do the opposite of what he's expected to do and keep the doctor around to throw us off his scent."

"Actually," Dita interjected, "we suspect Aaron Cross has formed an attachment to the doctor, given his emotional proclivity. If this is true, he would likely rebel against Outcome training, despite his genetic programming."

"The woman is his weakness," Byer clarified. "Exploit that vulnerability."


	22. Launch

**Chapter 21****: ****Launch (M)**

Marta sat down to secure the straps of her wedge sandals and watched as Aaron gathered up all their things and tossed them on the bed. Then he stuffed everything into the largest suitcase. Everything they had fit into one suitcase. She tried not to let the thought depress her.

She knew the answer but had to ask, sorrowfully, "We won't be coming back here?"

Aaron looked back at her, his big eyes equally full of mourning. "No."

He could have said a lot more, but they both understood how meaningful their stay here together was. They were mutually sad the time here was over. Rather than talk about it, he approached Marta, took her in his arms and gave her a long, sweet, lingering kiss. He pulled back only when he felt passion bloom, knowing they didn't have time to indulge, and rested his forehead to hers.

After a moment, Marta stood back and nodded her head. "All right. What's next?"

"We get the pills then we go home."

"We have a home?" she joked.

"Well, a home country."

"Mmm," she gave him a wry smile. "Not a country home?"

He shook his head at her and made a disgusted sound, teasing. "Bourgeois through and through."

"I just look the part," she replied, mock-offended. "You've trained me well."

"In two days?" he raised a disbelieving brow, smiling. She crossed her arms and looked back at him with narrowed eyes. He laughed, "I'm afraid that comes all too naturally for you."

"Then I guess we're in trouble if I have to play another part."

Aaron stopped smiling. "Actually, you will have to play another part today. And you'll do fine."

The mood was dead serious now. Marta looked alarmed but nodded her head. Aaron pulled her in tight against him and placed a kiss to her temple. "Let's go get those pills."

Then, because she still looked nervous, he added, "Hippy."

"Hippy?" Marta questioned, a small smile finally forming on her lips.

Aaron grinned. "Yes; and I'm going to enjoy watching you pull it off."

She groaned. "Let me guess, the pig-tails?"

"Definitely. And," he replied, with an even wider smile, "I'll scour the street market for a tube top."

"Fabulous," she rolled her eyes. "You're not instilling any confidence. There's no way I'm pulling off a tube top."

"Oh, I'm positive you can," he said wickedly, squeezing her breast playfully.

Then, when she batted his hand away, he gripped her buttocks and teasingly threatened, "Careful, or I'll find hot pants for you, too."

Her face contorted and he laughed, flexing his fingers into her flesh and hauling her in close. He pressed his lips against hers and was opening her mouth with his to slip his tongue in when there was a knock at the door. Before Marta could even register the sound, Aaron had whipped her around and behind him. A gun had materialized in his hand and was pointed at the door.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"House-keeping," a woman with a thick accent responded.

Tense muscles eased slightly. "Can you come back later this afternoon?"

"Yes, sir," the voice answered.

Aaron listened to confirm footfalls departing then turned to inform a wide-eyed Marta, "We told the concierge no maid service. It could be an innocent mistake, but we have to assume it's not. Time to go."

Marta felt fear hit her like an icy tidal wave. Aaron grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door, stooping to pick up her purse. He pushed the bag to her chest as he cracked open the door. She clutched it to her and stiffly followed him closely.

Gun drawn, Aaron peered around the door down the hallway one way and then the other. He motioned her to come and crept over the threshold. He stood facing the direction the housekeeper had gone and quietly directed Marta, "The elevator; go."

She strode purposefully on shaky legs to the brass doors of the lift and pushed the down button. Aaron walked backwards behind her, covering the hall. A random image of Kenneth Kitsom taking up the rear, much like this, on mission in Afghanistan popped into Marta's head. When the imagery of an ambush came next, she quickly cleared her mind.

She jumped when a ding sounded, announcing the arrival of the elevator. Aaron stepped to her side as the doors opened, his eyes scanning both the hallway and the lift as it was revealed. Fortunately, it was empty so Marta stepped inside and he joined her, facing outward, directly in front of her.

"Lobby," he said, and she pressed the key. The car descended and he spun to her, simultaneously shoving the gun into his belt, under his shirt, behind him. He held her by the shoulders and massaged them reassuringly but his instructions were firm. "Loosen up. Smile. We're relaxed; we're in love."

She smiled weakly and nodded. He kissed her quick, but hard, then threw is head back in a hardy laugh as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. He dragged her behind him and his presence filled the room. Marta wondered at how he suddenly loomed so large and loud. She realized, with a start, that it gave her a chance to recover and she was filled with gratitude for Aaron's skill. He stopped at the front desk and the man that had greeted them yesterday came over excitedly and asked if he could help.

"Yes," Aaron said. "My wife and I will be out for the day until later this evening. I have a large parcel to ship."

"Shall I post it for you?" the man interrupted, trying to be helpful.

"No, thank you," Aaron responded. "I have arranged the shipment already, but if you would allow the carrier into the room for pick-up..."

"Yes, of course," he agreed, happy to please. "I'll go collect it now."

"No need," Aaron corrected him. "It contains some fragile items and the carrier has assumed the responsibility for proper packaging so they must handle the goods. Normally, I would take the parcel to the company for packaging, of course, but we are behind schedule for plans today. My wife nags me mercilessly when I handle business on holiday."

"I do not!" Marta gently exclaimed, settling into her role as Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "No woman would appreciate being neglected on her honeymoon-particularly for office work. That would be dreadfully insulting."

Aaron clasped her around the waist with a wink at the concierge. "See what I mean?"

"It is not usual for us to allow an outside party into a guest's room while they are out, but, if you'll accept responsibility for the arrangement, we can make an exception," the man graciously allowed.

"Much appreciated," Aaron extended his hand, to pass him a large bill which the man eagerly took.

"Oh," Marta, interjected. "May I beg an envelop from you?"

"Yes, of course," he answered, moving behind the desk, retrieving one and handing it to her with an accommodating smile that she returned with thanks. The couple strolled through the atrium towards the exit.

Aaron leaned in and asked, "What's that for?"

"Am I correct in assuming the room was charged to a stolen credit card?"

The look he gave her told her she was, so she asked, whispering, "Will you allow me some of the cash you have stashed?"

He slowed their walking and nuzzled her behind the ear for show as he answered, "Do you need it right now?" Then, when she dipped her head in affirmation, "How much?"

She met his gaze with a smile. "Did you like what I wore last night?"

He puzzled for a minute, then covertly pulled out his wallet and handed her a substantial sum with a smirk. Marta couldn't help but laugh at the large amount. "I'll be right back," she informed him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

He didn't like letting her go on her own but allowed her to slip away, knowing anything else would look suspicious. His eyes scanned the place intently as she made her way toward the French shop then glanced at his watch. There was no sign of pursuit or anything amiss. Aaron concluded the maid's inquiry must have been an honest mistake. They were pushing it, having stayed so long in the room today. Briefly recalling their morning activities made it impossible not to decide the risk had been worth it. He mentally shook off the erotic images to focus on their survival. He ticked off the next few moves in his mind as he waited anxiously, though outwardly appearing bored. Marta returned just a few minutes later and took his hand, signaling that she was ready to go. Neither looked back as they made their way out, into Manila's heat.

Outside, the couple leisurely walked in the direction of the bustling town market. Aaron peered down the street through gold-rimmed aviators. Marta was concerned about walking around town openly after having wrecked such havoc here only a couple of days ago. Their pictures and footage of the rampage must have been on the news. Glancing at Aaron, though, was reassuring. He looked completely different. Utterly contrary to his true nature, he radiated an affluent arrogance no one would suspect was the same person who had terrorized the city.

_The National Research Assay Group must have been thrilled with their results. Initially, at least, _Marta thought. _No wonder they continued their work and pushed forward with another program._ Remembering the assassin that had chased them down, and thinking they had others just like him after them, was terrifying. She gripped Aaron's arm tighter then spied a delivery truck and its driver a few buildings down.

"Are you going to use that package carrier to get our things?" Marta asked.

"No," Aaron answered, having already dismissed the option. He explained succinctly, "Married, clean-cut, conscientious, professional-not our guy."

They made their way to an open-air market, near the beach, frequented by tourists. At the far end was a large crowded warehouse where most of the locals were doing their own shopping and eating. Marta's stomach rumbled. Aaron looked back at her with an apologetic smile. "I'm an awful lover; no breakfast in bed the morning after."

"I am starving, especially after all the physical exertion," she replied with a laugh, blushing prettily. "But I definitely wouldn't say you were an awful lover."

If he hadn't felt so guilty for her hunger, Aaron would indulge in his own appetite-of a more carnal nature. Instead, he lead her to the cleanest food stall and ordered them a protein-rich noodle dish. He wolfed his down then instructed Marta to stay as she finished her meal. "I'll be back within fifteen."

He leaned in, appearing to kiss her on the cheek, but whispered, "There's a gun in your purse, if you need it. I'll bring you something to change into. If anything goes wrong, run with the crowd and stay in the middle of the pack."

She nodded silently in response as he stood, her throat too tight to speak, as she imagined seeing the Asian super-agent lurking among the stalls. Aaron observed her fear and longed to comfort her but had to settle for a chaste kiss and a quick stroke of her jaw as he tipped her up by the chin. He left her behind, knowing the faster he could take care of business, the sooner he could be back with her.

Marta had lost her appetite but forced herself to eat, knowing she needed the nourishment, as she nervously waited for his return. Almost fifteen minutes later she saw Aaron making his way through with a large, old backpack. He approached and pulled her to her feet, taking her by the hand to follow him.

"There's a small warehouse office inside the third dock at the rear of this building. It's been cleared out. We have five minutes to change there," he explained quietly, picking up their pace. He steered her towards a small shipping bay and tested a door at the back wall. It opened into tiny, crammed office where he dropped the pack and immediately began stripping after closing the door behind them. Down to his boxers in seconds, he pulled out second-hand clothing from the bag and thrust some articles into Marta's hands.

She glanced at the rags and was relieved to find there was no tube top. There was a skimpy top with an open back that tied at the neck but she recognized the style as common to the hostel youths. She shuffled out of her linen pants and pulled on ratty jean shorts that were too baggy. She rolled the waist down, over her hips, so they were more secure. The look was indeed granola-hippy. A pair of flip-flops were dropped at her feet and she slid into them, looking over to find Aaron eying her bare mid-driff as he changed.

Marta pulled the silk shirt off and sighed as she held up the olive-green halter top. "I can't wear a bra with this," she complained.

Aaron finished looping a belt through worn khaki's to give her his full attention and gave her a shit-eating grin. "So take yours off."

She rolled her eyes and turned around, hiding a smile, but felt his hands on her waist, turning her back around to face him as she unhooked her bra. He took a step back to watch her as she pulled the garment from her chest, granting him his unspoken request. Aaron felt a low twinge in his gut as her breasts were bared before him. It increased as he watched her nipples harden, exposed to the sultry air under his intense gaze. His dick twitched and he thought, _F**k this five minutes_.

He lunged for her, dipping his head to take her taut nub into his mouth while he groped and fondled her other breast. After a good suck and a rough lick swirling her nipple with his tongue, he pinched the other with his left hand and ran his right up the inside of her leg. His fingers easily made their way under the baggy jean shorts, past the rim of her panties, to her moist heat.

His mouth switched breasts as one hand held the material of her garments aside while the fingertips of his other greedily explored her intimate folds. Marta's arms wrapped around his head and clasped his face to her chest, her fingers threading through his hair. Her hips rolled forward, pressing her body in tighter against his and her knee drifted to the outside of his thigh to give him greater access. Taking immediate advantage, he slipped his middle finger knuckle deep into her slick velvet canal and crooked his finger to feel around for the secret spot within her to give her a powerful shot of pleasure.

A breathy moan froze in Aaron's larynx as the sound of a truck rumbling up to the dock broke through his sexual haze. He swore and scrambled to extricate himself and stand up. He quickly shoved their fancy clothes and shoes into the backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

Flustered but functioning, Marta pulled the top down over her head and adjusted it over her breasts, lifting the ends to tie them behind her neck. It fit just right; she wasn't spilling out of it and it held her chest fairly well, despite the lack of support. Aaron removed his watch as he looked her over, frowning. His eyes moved behind her to a desk. He made his way over, wrenched it open and rifled through it until he found what he was looking for.

"Braid your hair," he instructed, handing her a couple rubber bands. She complied, figuring if it looked messy in her haste, it would work better for their purpose anyways. She quickly plaited her hair in two hasty braids reaching her shoulders and secured them with the rubber bands and she came up behind Aaron as he craned his neck around the door frame, checking for movement. There was none, but the sound of the truck beeping as it backed up against the dock warned that they had less than a minute to clear out.

Aaron left his gun where it was, sensing no immediate threat, and grabbed Marta's hand instead. He crouched low and pulled her along behind him as he led the way out, avoiding the line of sight the truck's mirrors would allow the driver. When relatively safe in the busy market square, Aaron glanced back at Marta. Her diamond earrings stood out. He lifted a finger to his lobe and she got the hint, removing the studs quickly and casually replacing them with her original silver earrings from her purse. Then she realized her handbag was all wrong, so she handed it to Aaron who nodded and put it into the pack then shrugged it over his shoulders and snapped it over his chest like a proper world traveling back-packer.

At one point, a rowdy group of college frat boys passed them and one whistled leeringly, staring at Marta's erect nipples which hadn't yet softened from Aaron's earlier attention. Barely glancing at her companion, the young man sidled up to Marta, his eyes focused on her chest.

"Well, hello to you, too," he laughed in accented English that sounded Scandinavian to Marta. "Looks like someone wants to come out and play. Ditch your loser hippy boyfriend and I'll take care of those perky little tits for you."

Marta was frozen in fear, not of the laughing pig making squeezing gestures with his hands in front of her breasts, but of Aaron's reaction. Her wide green eyes flickered to him as he slowly turned towards the boy, tension rolling in waves over his rippling muscles. _This is bad_, she thought, and knew she had to do something before Aaron killed the clueless jerk.

While a few were lewdly laughing along with him, a couple of the young men in the group were decent enough to tell their friend to knock it off and grabbed his arm to pull him away. Another was watching Aaron nervously and implored, "Come on, let's just go."

"No," the guy shook off their hands. "Her titties are begging me to twist them; just look at 'em!" He rose his hand in her direction, though not actually close enough to grasp her-probably just to make a pinching gesture over her left nipple-but Aaron's hand whipped out and grabbed his hand, bending the fingers backwards before he could.

The student yelped in pain and an audible pop could be heard as Aaron forced him to his knees. His friends were too shocked to try to rescue their buddy as he whimpered on the ground. Aaron growled menacingly into his ear in a thick German accent "Touch her and I'll break every one of your fingers. Don't you ever speak to a woman like that again. Apologize!"

When the young man didn't immediately follow Aaron's demand, he shoved him forward, bending the digits even farther until another sickening crunch sounded and the boy fell at her feet. Tears rolled down his face as he apologized profusely, sputtering. Recovering from her shock, Marta realized a crowd had gathered and spun Aaron around just in time to miss being caught front and center on someone's cell phone camera.

"F**king Nazi!" one of the frat boys hollered at Aaron as Marta dragged him away quickly pushing through the ensuing chaos. She glanced behind her and saw the young man on his knees clutching his hand, its middle finger bent back grotesquely in two places-once at the base and again at the first knuckle. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and felt herself being pulled along by Aaron as he took over their escape.

They walked quickly to a busy main street, Aaron leading the way. He gauged the speed of an old bus heading north. "Come on," he said as it passed them. He ran forward and hopped on, holding his hand out to Marta as she caught up and grabbed it. He swung her on-board, put a bill into the fare slot and they stood in the overcrowded aisle. She looked behind, worried there would be someone in pursuit after the market altercation, but the coast looked clear. She looked up at Aaron who returned her gaze with a dark look.

"That's going to attract some attention," he stated.

"The German accent was smart," she reasoned, hopeful.

"It won't throw them for long-not in this digital age," he shook his head. He craned his neck to read an old man's watch. Their window of time in Manila was reduced from a day or two to just a couple of hours, at best. "It won't be long now."


	23. Perched

**Chapter 23: Perched**

Marta followed Aaron silently as they made their way through the city. Finally, he pointed at an old, neglected concrete building and she nodded, understanding that was their destination. He led her around back to a parking lot, glancing at the van to make sure it was undisturbed, before heading to the stairway. Marta cringed at the loud creak of the steel door but Aaron seemed unconcerned as they climbed a few flights of stairs. He stopped in front of a door with a worn, faded sign and signaled her to stay put.

Aaron made sure the place was vacant and untouched from his last visit then retrieved Marta. She looked around, taking in the abandoned office space, while Aaron made his way to the bank of windows.

"Come here," he instructed. When she approached he pointed to another building outside in perfect view of their hide out. "The morgue. Now all we do is wait until the staff is closing up. Then you'll approach our contact and question her."

"And ask her what exactly?" Marta wondered, a sinking feeling settling over her.

"You'll just ask if a young Asian man was brought in a few days ago. You'll tell her your boyfriend has gone missing and you're sure something terrible has happened. She'll likely tell you to call the police and follow proper procedures or to come back in the morning and request information from someone in charge. You'll be very upset and explain he was high when he left you and rode off on his motorcycle to get more drugs and never came back. Tell her you're too afraid to go to the police and don't want to get him in trouble, especially if it turns out he's fine. Beg her to tell you only if a young man involved in a motorcycle crash had been brought in. She'll tell you."

"You're sure of that?" she asked, skeptical.

"Yes," he responded, confident. "The tough part will be to convince her to show you his personal belongings."

"The medication dispenser," she murmured, in understanding.

"She'll deny access to anything at first-she won't want to risk her job. So ask to see his body first. Then when she declines, ask if he was brought in with anything that could identify him. It should seem reasonable to her that you're only asking to see his things. If she hesitates, ask only for the necklace. Assure her you only want to see it-that you won't take it and no one would ever know you were there. Hopefully showing it to you will seem harmless enough."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Aaron dumped his backpack on an old metal desk. He opened it and rooted around, finally pulling out a small baggie. He handed it to her. "Offer her this."

She looked at the little pouch of white powder with wide eyes. "Is this cocaine?"

"Yes. Tell her it's all the coke your boyfriend left behind. She'll go for it."

"And if not?" she questioned, though she was beginning to believe his plan would work.

"Plan B," he shrugged. "But I don't think you want to hear that one."

Marta groaned, "I'm sure you're right. I'll just have to convince her to let me see the necklace."

"You can do this. This was your idea," he reminded her, smiling. "We've got a few hours to kill. Our girl is the one who locks up the building at closing time. Let's rehearse the interaction and prepare for a number of curve-balls. Then I'll go over the details of our exit strategy with you. You need to know how to get out of the country without me, if it comes to that."

He saw the look of fear in her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere without you. We just have to be ready for any complications. If we stay under the radar, we can get clear tonight and gain some breathing room." He placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her close. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she nodded. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and sunk into his embrace. "We need that medication. I'll get it."

He pulled back to look into her eyes. "I know you will. You're a warrior."

She smiled back at him, acknowledging his reference to their earlier adventures. He kissed her, then was back on task, drilling her on the details of the mission until she was mentally exhausted.

"Enough," Marta said, rubbing her temples. "I'm as prepared as I'll ever be. No more."

"All right," Aaron relented. "You're ready. Just one last thing."

Her shoulders drooped and her hands fell to her sides in defeat. "What?"

He looked her over approvingly. "You look stressed and worn out."

"Flatterer."

Aaron wore a crooked grin. "But you're too clean. You're supposed to be a grubby hippy chick slumming around with a strung-out boyfriend. Stressed and worn out is good, but we need you dirty and tired, too."

Marta's eyebrow lifted. "I'm sure you have a plan for that, as well?"

"Semper Fi" he grinned, hooking his index fingers in the loops of her cut-offs, pulling her in.

"I'm afraid we have to make this fast," he told her after kissing her deeply. "And this is a bad place to make love to you, but it will get the job done."

"Mmm; a fast, uncomfortable, filthy chore, hmm? Romantic," she laughed as he made his way down her neck.

He chuckled. "You can roll around the floor on your own, if you prefer. Or I can prove a dirty quickie is not necessarily a bad thing."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes jokingly as he sat on the ground. She allowed him to drag her down to the dusty floor. "If I must."

Aaron laid her on the floor and crawled over her. He dove right in, opening her mouth with his to slide in his tongue. He turned her head to kiss her thoroughly and lowered himself atop her, purposely grinding her into the dirty cement floor. His hand made its way to her breast and he squeezed gently until he felt her nipple rise against his palm. His thumb brushed back and forth over the nub through the fabric of the top.

"I wanted to hurt that frat boy in the market," he admitted.

Marta opened her eyes and looked up at him. Aaron's big blue eyes were full of guilt and peering into her face for signs of revulsion but found none. "I know," she whispered.

Reassured he hadn't yet scared her off, he resumed his ministrations. Part of him knew he should be concerned she wasn't alarmed by his actions. The other part was glad she shared his tainted morality. Mostly he was grateful she hadn't rejected him. She accepted him as he was, despite the things he had done. Much the same, he chose to overlook her dubious deeds and love her anyways.

He resumed kissing her deeply, his eyes locked onto hers and he realized there was no choice at all. He was bound to love her, no matter what she had done. He had been an unwilling slave to Outcome and broke those chains. With Marta, though, he couldn't bear the thought of those ties breaking.

A desperate need to join with her overtook him and Aaron ripped off his shirt and tore at his belt. Surprised by his sudden haste, Marta sat up and stilled his hands at his waistband. "Shhh...what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he assured her. "I just need you. Now."

His statement did nothing to alleviate her worry. "Do you have a bad feeling about tonight? You think this could be our last time together?"

"No, no. The operation will succeed, I'm sure of it, or I wouldn't let you do this."

"Then...?"

Aaron sighed and sat back on his knees, not sure of how to put his feelings into words. "I was enslaved. I was controlled and Outcome used me to do their dirty work. A sin-eater, Byer called me."

Marta looked confused but sympathetic. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. She held it tight and hoped to bring him comfort.

"I can't let them take anything more from me. I can't let them win."

"They won't," she told him with confidence. "We've got this. We'll beat them. Together."

Aaron nodded, feeling somewhat reassured. He could take comfort in the fact he had Marta safe with him, for now. She was right; they were in this together to whatever the end. He wouldn't let NRAG strip him of anything else. He would make every minute of life his own. He felt a tug on his hand and met Marta's smiling gaze. He let her pull him back down to the floor and she moved over him.

"I've got this." Marta's mouth was curved in a mischievous half-smile. Aaron realized with a rush of lust that she wasn't talking about the Op when she reached for his belt and inched down his body. She paused to nip at his pecks, teasing his nipples with her teeth, as she unhooked his belt and pulled it off. A deep moan escaped his lips as she popped the button of his khakis and unzipped them.

He leaned back on his elbows and kicked his flip-flops off as she grasped the waistbands of both his pants and underwear. Biting her lower lip, Marta pulled the garments down. His hips lifted to ease their removal and his swelling erection sprung free, drawing her darkened green eyes, as she tossed aside his clothing. Fully clothed herself, she laid her front down on the dirty ground-mindful of their mission- between his legs. Being so low on the floor she got an eyeful of all his manliness. Unable to resist, she placed a quick licking kiss to each of his testicles before crawling up over his legs to rest at his hips.

Aaron's head had rolled back to let loose a familiar string of expletives. She smiled at his reaction and he caught her grin as his head rose to look down at her. Their eyes met and she held his heated gaze as she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to the pink head of his penis.

"Holy f**, this isn't going to last long," Aaron groaned in a strangled voice.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, as she kissed his tip again, this time opening her mouth a little to suck at his flesh gently. He watched her run her tongue down the side of his straining cock. She shifted at the base to run the flat of her tongue up the underside of his length. When she reached the junction of his staff and the head, she flicked her tongue vigorously there until she felt him quiver.

Aaron blew out a ragged breath and made an ungodly sound as she took him into her warm, wet mouth and moved her tongue all around the tender head. Marta hovered over his hips on her elbows to get a better angle and felt him rest one hand on her head as she hollowed out her cheeks to suckle him. His hips bucked and Aaron cursed again, fighting his body's violent reaction. He gathered her hair up in his fist so he could watch her mouth work him over.

She lowered her head, taking him further into her mouth, then sucked him hard as she pulled back, flicking her tongue over his tip before sliding back down again and again. She squeezed the base of him as she took him in over and over with each bob of her head.

Aaron gasped as a reverberation rocked him from the back of her throat on a down-motion as she hummed a wanton sound. She kept at it; sucking, humming, and swallowing him in deeper as he peered down, watching intently until his vision blurred. It was blissful torture.

Feeling his body grow tense, like a predictor ready to pounce, Marta increased the speed at which her mouth moved up and down his shaft. Her lips, stretched around his throbbing cock, focused the tight friction on the ring of flesh under the tip of his penis.

Aaron felt an powerful rush overtake him. He moaned long and loud, fighting a sudden violence. _"Uuhhnnghh...Marta!"_

He abruptly pulled her off of him by her hair, just before spurting his cum in streaks over his chest. He groaned and strained and huffed until he could catch his breath. "Oh, f**k. Sorry."

He released her hair but cradled her face in his hands. He took another steadying breath then said, in a rough, scratchy voice, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Marta wiped her mouth and shook her head with a quiet chuckle. "No, of course not. You didn't have to pull me back."

"Yeah, I did," he disagreed. "I was very nearly out of my mind. I should warn you not to do that again, but I don't think I'm a good enough man to actually tell you not to."

She laughed and he brought her face down to his for a kiss.

Deepening the kiss, he rolled their bodies over, without thought, so he was on top of her. He had to pull back when she laughed into his mouth. "What?"

"Well, mission accomplished," she laughed, giving him a look.

Puzzled, he followed her line of sight as she looked down her body. "Oh, shit," he laughed, reaching for his discarded shirt. "Sorry about that."

"I'm a mess alright," Marta observed as Aaron tried his best to clean her off. He mopped up his own body then tossed the soiled shirt in a corner. He helped her up and looked her over.

"We may have overdone it a little," he said, brushing the grime of the floor off her clothes. He looked at his dirty hands then wiped them off on the seat of her jean shorts with a laugh.

"Oh, nice," she accused as he dug into his pack for his change of clothes. "You can wipe that smirk off your face."

He walked towards her buttoning his shirt, the shit-eating grin wide on his face. "Baby, this smile isn't wearing off anytime soon."

Marta scoffed and turned from him so he wouldn't see her amusement, but he caught her about the waist and pulled her in. He kissed her tenderly and savored the moment, holding her tight.

After kissing her again, he looked deep into her eyes. "I love you."

Marta knew she should tell him the same, but it didn't feel right. If she said it now, just before she put her life on the line, it was as if it would seal her fate-that it would be a good-bye. And she wasn't ready to part from him.

So, she decided to lighten the mood instead. "Well, after that, you better."

A fleeting look of disappointment crossed Aaron's face and Marta realized she had made a mistake. But it was too late. He was already responding, "Oh, after that, it would be impossible not to."

He gave her a quick kiss, leaving her feeling guilty, and walked to the windows. Activity had picked up and there were already some employees leaving the morgue.

"We've only got between fifteen and twenty minutes before you're on." He motioned towards a door at the other end of the open room. "There's a toilet in there but it's bad. I would only use it if you're really desperate. Don't flush."

Marta grimaced. "I'll have to brave it. Perhaps the stench will loan itself to authenticity."

He gave her an apologetic look with a half-smile, then turned back to his watch. In that moment, he was Kenneth.

Hurt and rejection radiated from him and Marta felt impelled to approach him. She stepped up behind him and placed her forehead to his spine like she had before on the boat. Her hands moved down his back then wrapped around him. She kissed his shoulder blade and was about to speak when he stopped her.

"Don't say it now."

"Aaron...," she interjected.

"I mean it, Marta. I don't need your pity," he said with a bitter edge.

"Pity is hardly what I feel for you," she retorted.

He turned to her then. "Don't you dare. Not now. We need to get ready. Go."

She took a step back, surprised by his harsh tone. He turned back toward the window again. "Aaron...," she tried again.

"It's fine, Marta. Really, I'm fine. You need to head down in about five minutes, so get yourself ready. I'll follow and watch from the alley in the van like we discussed. Go now."

Without another word, she left for the bathroom and he cursed his past life and insecurities. _Pu**y, _he muttered to himself. _You're on Ops, soldier. Pull it together. _Then, after a beat, _She needs Aaron Cross, not the weakling you were. Kenny is dead. Lock it down._

When Marta came back, Aaron was back to his old self. "All set?"

"I think so," she responded, glad his dark mood had passed. Then, referring to the toilet, "That was hideous."

He laughed. "Sorry." The word came out more weighted than he meant it to.

Aaron walked over to her pack, handed it to her, told her to put it on and turn around. "Good, you look just right."

She gave him a shaky smile.

He stood in front of her, grasping her shoulders, and looked her dead in the eye. "You're a carefree wanderer. You're seeing the world and living life to the fullest, as it comes, with your boyfriend. You open to all experiences and live like you'll die tomorrow. You didn't have a care in the world until your boyfriend disappeared. Now you're lost. You just need to know what happened. You can't move on without him until you know for sure he's gone. You have a bad feeling he is dead but you need proof. Despite the risk, you _need_ to know. Got it?"

Marta nodded her head. After peering into her eyes intently for a few seconds, Aaron nodded once, kissed her forehead, and released her. "Okay. Let's get the program medication and go home."


	24. On Mission

**Chapter 24**: **On Mission**

Aaron walked Marta out the garage of the building and pointed at an alleyway opposite their location. "I'll be there with the van running by the time you reach the morgue. Lock-up is in five, so you're on. My eyes will be on you the whole time and I can reach you in less than ten seconds if anything goes wrong. The back of the van is locked and inaccessible, so jump in the passenger seat if I have to drive up. Otherwise, stick to the plan and just walk back here when you've got the program medication."

"I know," Marta said, glancing nervously down the road. The story they had concocted meant she had to do this alone. She wished Aaron could take the lead in this.

"You don't have to do this," her told her. "We can run and stay under the radar. We don't have to fight this out."

"Yes we do," she replied gravely. "You said it yourself up there. We can't let the National Research Assay Group win. We take them down-or die trying."

"Don't say that. I won't let that happen," Aaron assured her, his hand rising to clasp the back of her neck. His thumb stroked the soft patch of skin where the curve of her jaw met the column of her neck. Time was slipping away. "I don't know how you talked me into this plan of yours."

"I'm rather regretting it myself," she replied. Marta felt a quick squeeze of his hand, then he released her.

Aaron nodded towards the morgue. "Okay; off with you," he said, with conviction, and a little smack to her behind. "Go get your precious evidence then."

Marta walked out of the garage, onto the sidewalk, where she took a quick glance back at him. Aaron gave her a little encouraging smile then transformed into a focused soldier on mission. Bolstered by the determination he exuded, she made her way down the street.

Aaron turned and walked quickly to the parked van he had readied the evening before. He wrenched the driver's door open then took a quick step back, covering the bottom half of his face with his forearm. The smell of the bodies in the back of the vehicle wasn't unbearable, but it was more than he expected after only one night. The back of the van was sealed from the cab, fortunately, but there was no hiding its contents from Martha with the stench. _Too late to do anything about that now_, he thought, and hopped in. He rolled down the windows and turned the engine over so he could start the fan on full blow.

Aaron pulled out of the garage and looked right to see Marta walking towards the morgue. He was gratified to see she did not turn around, as instructed, when she heard the van drive out. He drove around the block and turned down the alley, weaving through large metal bins of garbage and haphazard set-ups of the homeless. He slowed to a stop at the end where he could watch the exchange and be ready to intervene, if Marta ran into trouble.

Halfway down the road, Marta took a deep breath, gripped the straps of her back-pack and forced herself forward towards the old government building. Any future she and Aaron could have depended on her getting the program medication. A drop of sweat ran down her spine and gave her a chill, despite the sultry Manila dusk. The sun was setting and the street lights had turned on. The door of the morgue swung open as she neared. A short old man walked out and passed right by, hardly noticing her at all.

A trendy young woman with spiked hair soon followed. Marta recognized her instantly from Aaron's description. She had her back to the street as she fumbled with the lock on the morgue door. This was their girl.

Martha climbed the few steps up the entrance to where the young woman was hunched over and swearing as she yanked the wrong key out of the lock. She startled and dropped the keys when she finally noticed Marta steps away.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to frighten you," Marta said, her palms lifted in a gesture to show she was harmless. She knelt down to retrieve the ring of keys, then held them out to the young woman. "Do you speak English?"

The girl eyed her wearily but leaned forward and took the keys. "I speak little bit English. What you want? I no have money for you."

Aaron had told her the contact would most likely be able to speak at least some English, as the government-run morgue employed only university educated workers. The European and fresh-out-of-college look had supported the assumption. Still, Marta was very relieved to hear it, however broken the grammar. "No, no-I don't want money. Just information on someone that might be here..." she let her voice trail off as she looked up at the morgue.

The young woman followed Marta's gaze to the building then stated, "It closed. You come back tomorrow." She turned back to the door with the correct key to lock up for the night.

"Please," Marta begged. She looked desperate and anxious-feelings she didn't have to fake. "Please. I'm in a foreign country and my boyfriend disappeared three days ago. I can't find him anywhere. I just know something terrible happened to him."

The girl looked back at her, studying her with curiosity. "You think he dead?"

Marta's eyes filled and she nodded her head, her expression full of anguish.

The young woman's voice was softer as she repeated, "You come back tomorrow. We help you then."

Marta shook her head and let her fear show in her face as she pleaded, "I can't. We don't have papers. We shouldn't even be in this country. If he's not here, I'll just get him in trouble and myself detained. I just need to know if an Asian man, about my age, this tall...," she lifted her hand to about the height she guessed the super-agent was. "...short, dark hair. Handsome." Marta let her voice crack with emotion at that.

The morgue worker glanced around the sides of the building and down the empty street. Marta's hope soared when she saw the hesitation. She asked for too much first, as Aaron suggested. "Please, can I just look to see if he's in there?"

"No! I lose my job. No," she replied, shaking her head vigorously. She turned back to the door.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry-I don't want to get you in trouble. I don't need to see if his body is in there."

The young woman paused in fitting the key to the lock-a good sign. "Can you just tell me if a young man was brought in about three days ago?" Marta pleaded. The girl turned and met her gaze with a cautious, but contemplative, look.

Marta pushed on with her rehearsed questioning, "He wouldn't have had any identification on him. It might have been overdose. Or, maybe, it was a motorcycle accident...?"

Recognition showed in the girl's expression and she was about to respond, but a scooter was heard driving too fast up to the front of the morgue. Both Marta and the young woman turned towards the sound to see a moped stop suddenly in front of them. Marta's heart raced at the unexpected interruption.

A flashy young man in a white leather jacket and big, dark shades chattered in Filipino at the girl. She responded, obviously explaining the situation to him, an arm extended towards Marta. He looked her up and down then responded negatively-Marta understood that much, at least-and gestured for the young woman to join him on the bike.

Aaron watched from the van, leaning forward subconsciously with his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He knew the rider was the girl's boyfriend and no threat, but the mission objective was in obvious danger. Focused on the deteriorating situation at the morgue, he almost missed the sound of a car pulling into the alley behind him. He checked the mirrors and saw a police officer get out of a cruiser to question one of the homeless.

_S**t!_, he thought, knowing he couldn't drive off yet. It was down to these crucial seconds for Marta to succeed in getting the program medication or not. Him driving off would undoubtedly distract her and they would lose their one shot. But staying in the alley with the van running would definitely attract the attention of the police obviously making their rounds through the neighborhood.

Another officer joined his partner as the homeless man's responses got louder. Aaron watched the two policemen, with foreboding, from his side mirror while keeping an eye on Marta. He felt his body tense in readiness as the second officer glanced over and did a double-take. A white man in a work van with Filipino lettering idling in a back alley certainly caught the capable policeman's attention. The officer spoke a few quick words to his partner and began walking towards the van.

Aaron checked on Marta's progress and saw she had just pulled out the little baggie of cocaine and was holding it out for the couple to see. It was not a discreet offer. _Not good_. He couldn't drive out with the police in tow just as Marta was flashing drugs about in a last ditch effort to secure the meds.

The policeman neared the vehicle and Aaron was forced to act. He grabbed his gun, despite an acute reluctance to use it, and shoved it in his waistband at his back and opened the door. He stepped out as the officer started shouting at him to stay in the car. He walked forward, acting confused, with his hands in the air. The policeman drew his gun as Aaron came near. His partner noticed the commotion and started walking forward to assist.

In a flash of movement, Aaron lunged and swept the gun from the officer's grasp with his left then struck his neck with his right. It wasn't the normal death-blow Aaron was trained to use, but it incapacitated the man who fell to the ground gasping for air. Shocked, his partner stood frozen as Aaron spun in fluid forward-motion and pulled his weapon from behind him and aimed it at the policeman. Too late, the officer reacted and went for his pistol. He hadn't even gotten it out of its holster before Aaron rushed forward and brought the butt of his gun onto the man's skull. The policeman dropped, unconscious, to the cement as the crackle of a radio sounded.

The other officer was barely able to croak out the Filipino term for, "assistance" into his shoulder mic before Aaron clocked him over the head. He swung his gun around to the wide-eyed homeless man peering around a heap of trash. The bum stared at the deadly blue-eyed blond with a swaying gaze, as Aaron fought his instinct to pull the trigger. After a moment passed, the inebriated homeless man broke out in a toothless grin and gave him a thumbs up. Aaron relaxed slightly and lowered his weapon.

The bum chuckled a wheezing laugh, shaking is head and his raised thumb in delirious mirth. One side of Aaron's mouth lifted in acknowledgment. He walked back to the van, stepping over the policemen as the radio sounded. More police were on the way and Aaron knew anyone else listening in to the broadcast would be, too. Not taking out the patrol with an instant kill shot would have dire consequences.

Aaron fought feeling regret at his restraint. What kind of monster regrets not killing men who daily put their lives on the line for others? But, when the price was the probability of losing his future with Marta, it was difficult not to wish he had done otherwise. He had no doubt one of NRAG's super-agents would be on their trail in hours, if not minutes. Even worse, from the location of the incident, Eric Byer would surmise what they were after and realize their plan. They just lost any small advantage they had.


	25. Manila Morgue

**Chapter 24: Manila Morgue **

Back at the entrance to the morgue, Marta held out the bag of cocaine she had pulled from her pocket. "It's all I have left. You can have it. Just please, tell me if anyone that might be my boyfriend was brought in. That's all I'm asking."

The young man lowered his sunglasses and peered at the drugs, an eyebrow lifted. He asked his girlfriend a few questions in Filipino and she responded with a short sentence. He shrugged and waved a hand forward impatiently, as if to move her along. The girl turned towards Marta and informed her, "Yes, maybe your boyfriend here. Young oriental man, tall, a motor-bike accident. Two or three days past. No name."

Marta let her tears flow and her face twisted in grief and despair. The couple exchanged an anxious look and the girl came forward to pat Marta on her shoulder. She said, comfortingly, "Maybe not him. Maybe he still come to you."

"I have to know," Marta spoke, with a sad, shaking voice. "I can't just leave without him. I can't go home if I don't know for sure if he's dead." She broke down in wracking sobs. "I just have to know!"

The man, looked around nervously, uncomfortable with the emotional scene. The young woman felt pity for the broken American back-packer who was completely lost and alone. She could understand how awful it would be not to know if your lover was dead or he had just abandoned you-but she still wasn't willing to risk her job to show her the body. "Very sorry no more help. I lose job-big trouble-if I show you body."

"No, I don't want to get you in trouble, that's okay," Marta sniffed, wiping her nose. The couple stood by awkwardly, while she appeared to compose herself. She wiped at her tears but kept them coming. She spoke hesitantly, as if just coming up with a compromise. "But...would you maybe...could you...maybe just show me something the victim had on him?"

The young woman looked suspicious and she told her, "No, cannot take from here-for police."

Marta shook her head. "Oh, no. I wouldn't take anything. I only need to see something and you can have it right back. He...he wore a distinctive necklace. He never took it off. If my boyfriend is dead, the necklace would've been on him."

The girl seemed to consider and Marta added, "I promise; I won't take it. I just want to see it, and I'll give it right back. Then I'll know for sure if it's him."

The young man asked his girlfriend what the American was asking for. When she explained, he shrugged his shoulders as he replied in a dismissive voice. He eyed the cocaine again and Marta knew he wanted it. She held it out and said, in a beseeching tone, "This and my complete gratitude if you'll just show me any necklace among the personal items on the victim you mentioned. _Please, I beg you_."

The young woman didn't know a lot of the words the back-packer used, but she understood the request. She hesitated, but finally gave in when her own boyfriend exclaimed that he didn't see the harm in showing the American a piece of jewelry if it meant proof of her boyfriend's fate-and a good-sized baggie of pure coke. She instructed, "Stay here," and let herself back into the morgue. She emerged a few minutes later with her hand in her pocket, looking anxiously all around, before pulling out the exact same type of dispenser necklace Outcome had used for their participants.

Marta gasped in overly emphasized recognition and held open her hand for it. She thrust the cocaine into the young woman's other hand as if they were conducting a trade. The girl dropped the chain into Marta's open palm and quickly turned to give her boyfriend the drug, wanting it safely out of sight right away. While the couple was distracted, Marta slid the top of the dispenser open and tilted the pills into her hand. She held them, hidden in the cup of her hand, as she appeared to turn it over to look at the necklace closely, while sliding back the metal cover. She let the tears flow freely again and nodded her head, seeming to accept the terrible fate of her boyfriend's death.

Marta used her other hand to give back the necklace to the anxious morgue employee, who accepted it with relief and asked sadly, "Is his?" Marta just nodded again, in affirmation, appearing to stricken to answer.

"So sorry," the kind young woman told her, her face full of concern. Even the boyfriend on the moped spoke in heavily accented English, "Sorry. Sad."

She gave them a watery, but grateful, smile. Marta thanked them in a strained voice then hunched her shoulders, shoved her hands in her cut-off jean pockets, and turned away to walk back slowly with heavy, burdened steps. It took great self-restraint to keep from running as fast as she could away from the morgue and not to look towards the alley where she knew Aaron was watching. Marta heard the motorbike start up behind her a few minutes later. The couple drove past her, slowing down to catch her gaze and give her a sympathetic wave good-bye. Marta held up her hand and flashed them a sad smile. She took the opportunity the brief exchange presented to glance over at the van as the pair rode by the alleyway entrance. She was close enough to see Aaron's white-knuckled grip on the wheel and dark, tight-lipped expression. His eyes were doing that roaming patrol thing he did when on high-alert. And though he wasn't looking directly at her, Marta knew he was hyper-aware of exactly where she was and what was happening. This wasn't his usual on-mission diligence-something had gone wrong.

With the program medication safely in her pocket, Marta wondered at what had went awry. She stuck to the plan and continued walking down the street, heading back towards the garage where Aaron would pick her up. So she jumped when a vehicle suddenly stopped beside her, just as she turned to enter the building. The passenger door swung out and she heard Aaron tell her, "Get in!"

Marta climbed in quick, not even bothering to take off her pack. Aaron stomped on the gas even before she had the door shut. Cold fear ran through her and she struggled to take off the back-pack and get her seatbelt on with shaking hands. Fear had winded her, so she just gaped at Aaron, her green eyes wide and filled with dread.

"The police have to be just behind me," Aaron explained. "They'll be onto us now." Marta knew he wasn't talking just about the Philippine authorities. She wanted to know exactly what happened, but wisely let Aaron concentrate fully on their escape. Sirens sounded in the distance.


End file.
